Ashes
by Mbwun
Summary: A sequel to “Once More Unto The Breach.” The war between the Star League and the CC-FWR alliance continues, and things are about to change in the Inner Sphere... Finally, an update, Part 16 is now up. Please R&R.
1. Forward

Disclaimer:  I don't own BattleTech, but I do own Eddie, Lara, Bill, Anderson, and most if not all of the characters in this story.

Enjoy!


	2. List of Characters

Due to popular demand, a list of characters (and a couple of ships), and a glossary of acronyms, current as of Part 10:  (Unfortunately, some spoilers unless you've read up to Part 10)

General **Edward Davion**, AFFS:  The Commander-in-Chief of the Star League Defense Forces as well as the commander of the First Crucis Lancers, Edward is the cousin of First Prince Anderson Davion.  He is presently commanding Task Force Aleph, the SLDF task force attacking the Capellan Confederation.

Colonel **William Shenke**, AFFS:  The operations officer of Task Force Aleph, Shenke was formerly the ops officer of the First Crucis Lancers.  He is a close personal friend of Edward Davion.

Leftenant-General **Allen Kell**, AFFS:  A distant descendant of Phelan Kell and Ranna Kerensky, Allen Kell is the new executive officer of the First Crucis Lancers.  As Edward Davion is preoccupied with coordinating the entire task force, he serves as de facto CO.  He is a close personal friend of Edward.

General **Lara Steiner**, LAAF:  Former commander of the Twelfth Donegal Guard, Lara Steiner is a distant relation of the Archon.  She was captured by the Capellans in combat on the planet of Bharat, and was condemned to death for "war crimes."  She is currently imprisoned on a Capellan WarShip.

Prince **Zander**:  Once the adviser of the late Charlemagne Kerensky-Liao, Zander allowed Lady Janice Liao to fall into enemy hands and later framed Charlemagne for the act.  He murdered Charlemagne and took control of the Tikonov Principality.

Precentor Martial **Nicholas Kurita-Davion**, Com Guards:  Nicholas Kurita-Davion, the descendant of Victor Steiner-Davion and Omi Kurita, was formerly the Commander-in-Chief of the Star League Defense Forces, but resigned after the Star League's early defeats to protect the First Lord's reputation.  He is a distant cousin and a friend of Edward Davion.

Colonel **Rain Jeffers**, Merc:  The commander of the Lonesome Vanguards mercenary regiment, Rain Jeffers is currently employed by Prince Zander as his private military force.  She is marginally aware of the way in which he seized the throne, but really doesn't care as long as the money is good.

Archon **Donavan Steiner**:  The Archon of the Lyran Alliance, Donavan Steiner is also serving a term as First Lord of the Star League.

First Prince **Anderson Davion** (deceased):  The First Prince of the Federated Suns, Anderson Davion and his immediate family were assassinated by Capellan agents.

Coordinator **Ichiro Kurita**:  Ichiro is the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine.

Gunji-no-Kanrei **Yoshi Kurita**, DCMS:  The warlord of the Combine Mustered Soldiery, Yoshi Kurita is currently commanding Task Force Beta in its assault on the Free Worlds Republic.

Captain-General **David Corrigan**:  Once a Wolf Clan stooge, David Corrigan bucked his masters when he sided with the Capellan Confederation in the war with the Star League.  Now, he's having second thoughts.

Chancellor **Chong-lo Liao**:  Seated on the Celestial Throne, Chancellor Liao is the ruler of the Capellan Confederation.  During the Tikonov Revolt he had his own daughter executed.  His "reforms" have practically crippled the CCAF.

Captain **Ti**, CCAF:  The CCAF officer assigned to the interrogation of General Lara Steiner.

Unnamed **Maskirovka Agents**:  There are two in the story.  The first is the agent who assassinates Anderson Davion.  The second is the agent in charge of the interrogation of Lara Steiner.  (Note:  The Maskirovka is House Liao's secret intelligence/police agency.)

Rear Admiral **Cassius Ver Burg**, AFFS:  Admiral Ver Burg is the commander of the _Glorious_ WarShip task force.

Marshal of the Armies **Sarah Hasek**, AFFS:  Normally the supreme military commander of the AFFS, Sarah Hasek is currently attached to Task Force Aleph, in command of the Davion Heavy Guards.

Tai-sa **Katsuro Genimocho**, DCMS:  The commander of the Luthien Samurai Guard, attached to Task Force Aleph.

Major **Hank Yountz**, Merc:  An officer in the Lonesome Vanguards, Yountz was one of the original members of the mercenary First Vanguards Company.  He now commands its First Battalion.

Major **"Scoot" Alder**, Merc:  Another of the original First Vanguards, Scoot is now an officer in the Lonesome Vanguards, and is the leader of Colonel Jeffers' bodyguard lance.

**Jan Hakados**:  The FedSuns Intelligence Minister, Hakados was shot in the shoulder and gravely wounded during the assassination of Anderson Davion.

First Prince **Shane Davion**:  Shane Davion succeeded Anderson as First Prince of the Federated Suns.

  
And now, the promised couple of ships:

FSS _Warspite_, AFFS:  _Avalon_ Class cruiser, flagship of Task Force Aleph.

CCS _Celestial Glory_, CCAF (Maskirovka-crewed):  _Aegis _Class cruiser, the Maskirovka high-security prison, in orbit of Sian.

And the glossary of acronyms…

AFFS:  Armed Forces of the Federated Suns

CCAF:  Capellan Confederation Armed Forces

CCG:  Capella Commonality Guard

CCS:  Capellan Confederation Ship

DCMS:  Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery

FSS:  Federated Suns Ship

LAAF:  Lyran Alliance Armed Forces

LAS:  Lyran Alliance Ship

SLDF:  Star League Defense Forces

TPAF:  Tikonov Principality Armed Forces

TRG:  Tikonov Regular Guard

_Whew_!  Well, I hope this clarifies things for you a bit.  I left off quite a few minor characters, like Sinclair, but that's only because they really don't matter in the grand scheme of things, they're just there.


	3. Part 1

SLDF Headquarters, Tukayyid 

**ComStar Occupation Zone**

**Rasalhague Dominion**

**July 12, 3219**

"Ladies and gentlemen," said General Edward Davion, newly minted Commander-in-Chief of the Star League Defense Forces, "we're here because we've got a war to fight.  I have no doubt that you all know this, which is why I'm going to get right to the point.  Clan Jade Falcon has already joined the Capellan Confederation and its ally, the Free Worlds Republic, and, as you may not have noticed, Clan Nova Cat did not send its representatives to this meeting, nor did Clans Star Adder, Coyote, or Goliath Scorpion, although those last three have already declared neutrality in this conflict.  We are expecting the Nova Cats to formally throw in with the Capellans in a matter of days.  Clan Ghost Bear—" he nodded to saKhan Radick "—will launch a military campaign against the Cats to keep them occupied while the rest of the Star League focuses on a four-month campaign that will put us on the doorstep to Sian."

       The briefing room was filled with the top brass from every Star League member's military.  The faces watched Edward closely, very much aware that he now had more combat command experience than anyone in the Inner Sphere.

       "Commander," said Marshal of the Armies Sarah Hasek, senior officer of the AFFS, "what kind of objectives are we looking at for this operation?"

       Edward looked at the woman who, until a few weeks ago, had been his commanding officer.  "Primary objective is the capture of Sian, and the release of SLDF POWs being held illegally by the Capellan army.  That includes General Lara Steiner, commander of the Twelfth Donegal Guard.  Secondary objective will be the capture of Chancellor Liao, although without his capital, Chong-lo is going to be hard-pressed to win a war, especially when his friends in House Corrigan have their own problems.

       "What we're planning is a two-pronged assault, one, led by myself, which will focus on Sian, and the second, led by Kanrei Kurita, will head for Marik.  Our plan will be to destroy as much of the enemy militaries as we can, and force a peace settlement.  If Chong-lo or David Corrigan decide not to go along with our demands, well, there's not much they can do if we're holding their worlds.  Now, here're the details of what we've worked out so far . . ."

       Edward met Benjamin Shenke outside.  The operations officer brushed off his new colonel's rank pin, lighting a cigarette.

       "I didn't know you smoked," Edward muttered as Shenke fell in stride with him.

       "Just started," Shenke explained, taking a long drag.  "Sorry I couldn't make it.  We were going over logistics and stuff in the staff meeting.  It went a little long.  How did things work out?"

       "Fine.  Hasek is a bit reluctant, but I think that's more because she feels uncomfortable with the fact that I got promoted over her head."  He shrugged.  "Hell, wasn't my fault, it was Nicholas's.  I noticed that he wasn't here today, although the Precentor he sent was quite knowledgeable."

       "Yeah, ol' Nicky sends his regards, and fully supports your plan, which I shared with him at the staff meeting."

       "Why wasn't he at the briefing?"

       Shenke shrugged.  "I think that a few of the officers are pretty mad at him.  They don't recognize that he was covering for Donavan when he resigned."

       Edward frowned.  "He's not worried about it . . ."

       "Oh, hell, you know how Nick doesn't let that kind of thing bother him.  What's important is that he knows he did the right thing, and I don't think he really cares what anyone else thinks."  Shenke tossed the cigarette butt to the ground, crushing it beneath the heel of his boot.  "So," he said, changing the subject, "I hear that you're making me the chief operations officer for the Capellan Campaign."

       "That is correct.  You're the best one I have, and I'll need your managerial skills to keep my various forces from killing each other."  He grimaced.  "As I said, I don't think Marshal Hasek is going to like being under my command, at least not at first, and the Davion Heavy Guards are fanatically loyal to her, so there's bound to be tension between her and the First Crucis.  Oh, did I mention that to you?  Yeah, because I apparently don't have enough problems already, and because my position as Commander-in-Chief is only a temp spot, I still hold my commission in the AFFS, which wouldn't be so bad if Anderson hadn't decided to keep the First Crucis Lancers under my command."

       "I won't be so bad," Shenke said.  "You'll need an honor guard, after all."

       "That I will," Edward agreed, "but I'd like for someone else to be in command of them."

       "They pulled Colonel Rian, didn't they?"

       Edward nodded.  "Yes, he was transferred to take command of the Fourteenth Regimental Combat Team.  Anderson is sending me a leftenant-general to take his place."

       "That's a pretty advanced rank for XO, even of a multi-regimental force."  Shenke shook his head.  "Hell, most of out units are commanded by a grade or two lower."

       "I know.  I'm pretty sure Anderson has at least recognized that I'm going to be busy as hell commanding a task force _and_ nine regiments, and I've read the man's file.  He's a graduate of the academy, and he's seen a bit of combat fighting pirates."  He shrugged.  "And he just finished a two-year stint as the commander of the Fifth Davion Fusiliers.  I'm confident he'll be able to handle the details when the shooting starts."

       "Does this mystery man have a name?" Shenke asked reprovingly.  Edward laughed.

       "I believe he does.  It's Allen Kell.  You've heard of him?"

       "Heard of him?  He's supposed to be one of the best officers in the AFFS!"  Shenke shook his head in disbelief.  "Present company accepted, of course," he added with a grin.

       Edward ignored the jab.  "But back to business, Colonel.  We really do have quite a bit to accomplish in just a few days."

       "When is the launch date?"

       "Tentatively,  the twentieth of this month."  Edward grimaced.  "We have to get to Sian before . . ."

       "I know."  Shenke also knew that Lara Steiner's capture and subsequent condemnation by the Capellans was wearing hard on his commander.  And there were close to three hundred more Davion, Lyran, and even Combine personnel in the hands of House Liao.  Edward fully intended to get every one of them back before this was over, and Shenke pitied the fools that tried to stop him.

**Avalon City, New Avalon**

**Crucis March**

**Federated Suns**

**July 13, 3219**

The agent was shorter than most men, compact and muscular.  He wore the uniform of a foreman at the local IndustrialMech factory, but that did not trick Captain Feng from seeing one of the most deadly assassins employed by the Maskirovka, the Capellan Confederation's secretive intelligence agency.

       "You shouldn't have come here," Feng scolded.  "What if someone from the Secretariat sees you?"

       "They won't," said the agent, "I'm better than that."

       "Your ego isn't going to do us much good if Davion finds out we're here.  It'd be even worse if they find out why we're here."

       "They won't find us," the agent said, carefully annunciating each word.

       Feng was not impressed.  The Maskirovka always operated that way, though, threw aside the warnings of the military that they often used as their tools.  It was revolting to a career man like Feng, who had risen through the Capellan hierarchy since his enlistment in 3198.  Men like the agent, men whose carelessness could throw that all away, disgusted him.

       On the other hand, Feng certainly recognized the value of their mission.  If it were to succeed, everyone involved, even the lowliest technician, would be celebrated as heroes when they returned to Sian.  Feng would certainly be given a command in a Death Commando regiment, something he had desired since he'd first seen the elite warriors and their boldly painted BattleMechs marching in a parade held to commemorate the Chancellor's birthday, long ago in his childhood.

       The agent's demands brought him back to the present.

       "The rifle," he said.  "Where is it?"

       "In the back room, the soundproofed one."  The Maskirovka had set the safehouse up six years before when Chong-lo Liao had been contemplating assassinating Jan Hakados, Davion's Intelligence Secretary.  Now another assassination was being planned, and the agent had put the safehouse's soundproofed gun range to good use.

       Feng followed the agent as he made his way to the range.  The agent's rifle was kept in a gun rack off to the side that also held Feng's personal weapon, a standard-issue Fe19 autorifle.  The agent's weapon, however, was anything but standard.  The long black rifle was made of a super-durable, lightweight plastic similar to the product used in BattleMechs' windows.  It could be set to semi or fully automatic, and its banana-shaped clip held forty-five 7.62mm armor-piercing rounds.  A large laser scope was mounted on the rifle's top, and its grip had been sculpted to perfectly fit the agent's hand.  Feng knew that the rifle was incredibly accurate, even on its full-auto setting, and he'd seen the agent put a full clip through the standard sniper's kill zone at a hundred meters in under a minute.

       Moving with the lighting-fast speed of familiarity, the agent checked the rifle's action, loaded a clip, and jacked the first round into the chamber.  Standing in with the rifle pulled into his shoulder, his finger caressed the trigger with the tenderness of a man stroking his lover's hair.

       The rifle's bark was subdued by the silencer mounted on the muzzle, and a hole the size of Feng's clenched fist was blasted through the man-shaped target's head.  Feng watched the agent while he went through a clip with careful determination.

       "What is it you wanted?" Feng asked when the agent had cleaned the rifle and returned it to its case.  "This isn't your scheduled practice time."

       "I know," said the agent.  "It's been a stressful day.  Some stupid bastard got himself crushed by an AgroMech.  I was filling out paperwork for hours."

       "Dammit, you came here because you're stressed?"  Feng was furious.  "You moron, you can't risk blowing the mission because something pissed you off!  How dare you—"

       Before Feng knew anything different, the agent had him by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

       "Shut the fuck up, _Captain_," the agent hissed.  "You don't know anything about me.  Without me, you have no mission.  So shut your damned mouth."  The agent threw Feng aside, walking out of the safehouse without another word.

       Gagging, Feng pulled himself to his feet.  "Son of a bitch," he muttered, "I hope the Davionists do catch you."  He smiled to himself.  "After you complete your mission, of course."

**Presidential Palace, Marik**

**Marik Commonwealth**

**Free Worlds Republic**

"Captain-General, you have a message from Chancellor Liao.  It just came in on the HPG."

       David Corrigan looked up from his desk, hardly surprised.  Chong-lo, despotic bastard that he was, had been obsessive about maintaining the final say in their alliance.  After only a few months of his behavior, Corrigan was beginning to have second thoughts about leaving the safety of the Star League to throw in with his cause.

       "Thank you, just have it transferred to my desk viewer."

       "Of course, sir."

       Corrigan set the report he had been reading aside, rubbing his temples in an effort to stave off the headache that he knew was coming.  An alliance with the Capellan Confederation had seemed like such a simple thing when he had first considered it, and the Free Worlds Republic had much to gain from it . . . or much to lose.  Fighting had erupted on several worlds where the Wolf Clan had substantial garrisons, but after a month, his forces had been able to regain control.  Corrigan only wished that they had done as well in the Tikonov Principality.  He'd lost the First Marik Knights to Edward Davion, and the Atreus Brigade had been devastated.  Liao had told him that such things were to be expected, but Corrigan was sick and tired of the Chancellor's crap.  His decision to have Lara Steiner grandiosely executed was idiotic; it was bringing the SLDF down on them like the hammer of God.  David Corrigan certainly did not relish the thought of the AFFS landing on Marik, nor did he like to think about what the Star League would exact in retribution if Steiner were put to death.

       He activated his viewer and started Chong-lo's message.  The Chancellor was wearing the gaudy colors that he loved, and his shiny black hair was combed back from his forehead.

       "Captain-General," he said, "first, let me convey my condolences on the loss of your First Marik Knights.  I know that such a blow will be difficult for your military to recover from, but, given the current state of affairs, I am afraid that we cannot allow such a minor setback to inhibit our operations.  Given your forces' failure in the Tikonov Principality—"

       "Without _my_ forces, we wouldn't even have Bharat, you son of a bitch!" Corrigan yelled at the screen.  He shook his head and backed up the video.

       "—forces' failure in the Tikonov Principality, the Confederation will have to lead the next offensive.  My generals are planning to strike the worlds of Northwind and Caph in the Federated Suns, and Thorin in the Lyran Alliance.  Your troops are welcome to assist, of course, but the Confederation shall lead the way."

       _And claim the prizes, of course,_ Corrigan added silently, painfully aware that the original agreement had left the Lyran Alliance for the Free Worlds Republic.  _Well, if Liao can renege on his part of the deal, then so can I._  Chong-lo continued to speak, giving Corrigan detailed plans on his invasion, followed by a request for more support in the Principality, citing "the tremendous demands of the operation."

       "Go to hell," Corrigan said when the message was done.  He hit the intercom switch.

       "Terry, could you please have General Romanov shown in?"

       "Very well, sir."

       A moment later, Andrei Romanov stepped into the office.  "You wanted to see me, sir?"

       "Yeah, shut the door, would you?  Have a seat."  Corrigan folded his hands in front of him.  "Chong-lo is being a prick."

       "What else is new?"

       "He's taking the offensive.  He's going to hit Northwind, Caph . . and Thorin."

       Romanov sat up.  "Huh?  Thorin is in the Alliance . . . and the conditions of the alliance . . ."

       "Yes, but there's no formal treaty," Corrigan pointed out.  "Nothing more than a verbal agreement between Chancellor Liao and myself.  Which means that he's not technically betraying anything.  Little bastard.  Well, I've got a trick or two up my sleeve, as well."

       "What've you got in mind?" Romanov asked.

       "Chong-lo wants me to send him reinforcements for Tikonov.  Considering that good ol' Eddie Davion beat the hell out of us in the Principality already, I have no desire to lose any more valuable forces to that hellhole."  He shrugged.  "Let's face the facts, Andrei, Tikonov is lost.  They've got Anderson Davion on their side, and that new prince of theirs, that Zander, he's a lot smarter than his late predecessor.  He's really pulled the Principality Defense Corps together, and they're kicking the crap out of the Capellans on Liao."

       "Ironic, isn't it?"

       "Well, the point is that I do not intend to send them another elite unit to be slaughtered.  They get the Third Atrean Militia, nothing more.  And no WarShips, either."  Corrigan smiled.  "Those we'll reserve for a target of our own."

       "And where," asked Romanov, "might that be?"

       "Tharkad," said Corrigan.  "We're going to hit Tharkad."


	4. Part 2

Cato City, Liao 

**Liao Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**July 14, 3219**

Rain Jeffers blinked sweat out of her eyes.  Her _Fafnir _assault BattleMech, recently acquired through a black market exchange with the Federated Suns, charged past a pair of Capellan heavies, a _Lao Hu_ and a _Cataphract_.  The _Cataphract_, which must have been at least two hundred years old, rotated to fire at her, missing wide with its large laser.  Jeffers fired a shot from the heavy gauss rifle in the left side of the _Fafnir_'s chest.  The rail driven slug smashed through the light armor on the _Cataphract_'s side, blasting open the 'Mech's ammunition bays.  Jeffers touched off the autocannon rounds with a burst from her medium lasers, and the 'Mech was rocked by explosions that blew chunks from its midsection.  The pilot ejected only moments before the cockpit was turned into a billowing inferno, and Jeffers turned her attention to the _Lao Hu_.

       The Capellan BattleMech stalked forward, supported by an internal-combustion powered AgroMech with a 9cm rotary autocannon mounted on its right arm.  Jeffers fired her right gauss rifle, missing it by a healthy margin.  The _Lao Hu_ fired its large pulse laser, tracking ruby darts of energy up the side of Jeffers' _Fafnir_, turning armor into pits of blackened slag.  A pair of Streak-SRMs impacted on the _Fafnir_'s chest, blasting off pieces of the 'Mech's metal protection in shards that skipped over the ground, digging little trenches.

       "Major, we've secured the bridgehead, Alpha Company is starting across."

       "Carry on, Lieutenant, I'm a little busy right now."  She hit the _Lao Hu_—a glancing blow to the leg with both gauss rifles—blowing all the armor off its shin and exposing the pale myomer beneath.  The AgroMech fired its autocannon, sending a short burst into Jeffers' shoulder, twisting the BattleMech around and making her next two shots go far off-target, pounding into the dirt.  Jeffers pulled the 'Mech back around as the AgroMech continued firing, the rotary AC putting out hundreds of rounds in a matter of seconds.  The storm of metal pounded into the _Fafnir_, knocking her aim off.  Jeffers struggled to bring the crosshairs down over the AgroMech, firing as soon as she had the lock.

       The impact of the gauss slugs knocked the AgroMech onto its back, its autocannon still firing into the air.  Jeffers returned her attention to the _Lao Hu_ as its large pulse laser pelted her rear with arrows of coherent light.

       She sent a gauss round downrange, blasting armor shards from its arm.

       "This is Red One calling Vanguard, Vanguard, come in."

       "Dammit, leave me alone for a minute!" she shouted, spearing the _Lao Hu_ with her lasers.  The Capellan retreated behind a stand of buildings, quickly running away to rendezvous with some unseen ally.  "What is it?"

       "Alpha Company is across the river and moving into the city to support Bravo.  The Capellans are giving us hell, ma'am, but the Third Battalion of the Fourth TRG is coming in from the west to support us.  We'll be at your position in approximately five minutes."

       "Take your time, Captain—"  Her response was interrupted as a hurricane of autocannon shells blasted into her back.  Jeffers cursed violently, running her 'Mech in a circle to face the modified AgroMech, which had finally righted itself.  One of her shots missed, but the second hit the autocannon, jamming its firing mechanism and warping its barrels.  The AgroMech's pilot knew he was finished, and turned to run, opening his 'Mech's back—and its paper-thin armor—up for a perfect shot from both of the _Fafnir_'s rail guns.  The gauss slugs blasted through the AgroMech, digging hundred-meter-long furrows in the earth beyond it, taking most of the AgroMech's engine with them.  Gasoline ignited, and the 'Mech exploded in a geyser of flame.

       Jeffers' lancemate strode up in a _Vulture_.  "Sorry I'm late, boss," she breathed.  "Capellans held me up."

       "Gotcha.  Red One, where are you?"

       In response, a _Marauder III _stalked into the clearing, painted in the crazy swathes of red, orange, and blue that identified it as belonging to the Lonesome Vanguards.

       "Right here, ma'am," Red One replied.  The 'Mechs of his command lance began to fan out, establishing a perimeter around their commanders.  "What's the situation?"

       "Charlie Company is working with the First Batt of the Fourth TRG in the southern tip of the city.  The Capellans have really gotten the crap kicked out of them since we landed.  Scoot says they won't last another day."

       "Scoot is overly optimistic.  Did he manage to get a command post set up?"

       "Yes, ma'am, I've orders to escort you there."  The _Marauder_ tromped through the clearing, heading down 392nd Street.  "If you'll just follow me . . ."

       An hour later, Major Jeffers stood in a truck trailer that Scoot had commandeered to serve as a mobile CP.  Her operations staff, on-loan from the First Tikonov Regular Guard, had set up three million credits' worth of communications and combat intelligence assimilation equipment in the cramped space, but they'd managed to get good circulation in the trailer, and a cool breeze made her shiver after the furnace of her 'Mech's cockpit.

       "Okay, what's the situation, Tactical?"

       The lieutenant in the black and gold of the TRGs tapped the large laminated map spread out on one wall.  Notes had been scribbled across it in an almost illegible writ.

       "The majority of our forces are here, in the southern sector of Cato.  The Capellans have gotten themselves holed up pretty well, with barricades in the buildings and such.  We think that they're smuggling in supplies from across the river to the south, but we haven't been able to free up the aerofighter forces necessary to find their convoys."

       "Why not?"

       "Well, until recently, we had the Capellan aerofighters to deal with, and then they were busy refueling and rearming."  He shrugged.  "Actually, they hadn't been available in any significant number until about fifteen minutes ago."

       "Get them out," Jeffers said, "I want them hunting for that supply convoy.  It'll be their first priority."

       "Ma'am?"

       "Look, most of those Capellan 'Mechs are running on internal-combustion, and that means they need petrol every ten or twelve hours.  If we can run them out of gas, we can just walk right in there and they'll have the option of surrendering or dying."

       "Very good, ma'am."

       "Yeah, yeah, carry on."  Jeffers waved him away, studying the map.  "Okay, I'm taking Alpha Company out to investigate the Capellan lines," she said finally to no one in particular, leaving before she could get roped into something else.

       Back in the _Fafnir_, Jeffers headed south with eighteen 'Mechs in tow, taking her time in getting to the frontline where two Tikonov battalions fought the remainder of the Liao Planetary Militia.

       The scene was more horrific than Jeffers had expected.  The city for blocks around had been destroyed by the fighting, and the Capellan 'Mechs had piled a great wall of rubble between themselves and their enemies.  Broken 'Mechs and fragments of broken 'Mechs lay scattered about, many of them still burning, and here and there was the body of a man or the shattered frame of a powered armor suit.  A squad of Gnomes, also gifts from Anderson Davion, with the insignia of the First Battalion of the Fourth TRG jumped up to greet Jeffers and her company.

       "Major Jeffers?"

       "That's correct."

       "This is Lieutenant Martins, Fourth Tikonov Regular Guard.  Colonel Norton sends his regrets that he is unable to meet you in person.  You wish to see the Capellan lines?"

       "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Lieutenant."

       "Well, ma'am, we're not really doing much now, so I can't see any harm in giving our CO a quick tour."

       Jeffers grimaced.  The situation was an interesting one; though Norton and half of his officers technically outranked her, Prince Zander had seen fit to make her the commanding officer of his forces on Liao.  She had protested, of course, but he hadn't been in the mood to argue; in the end, a promise to fund the expansion of her mercenary group to a regiment's strength had bought her agreement.  Jeffers hated to sell out so easily to Zander, but his money was good, and the Lonesome Vanguards had profited greatly in his employ.  And unlike Zander's predecessor, Charlemagne Kerensky-Liao, he actually seemed to value his people.  Jeffers shook her head.  No, that wasn't right; Zander, just like Charlemagne, saw men and women as tools, nothing more, but he was significantly more skilled in their application . . . and Zander hadn't murdered Captain Marsh.  Jeffers sincerely doubted that the charges Zander had lain against Charlemagne, but the fact that Leon Marsh had finally been avenged had been enough for her.

       "Shall we?" Martins said sweetly, motioning with a hand.

       Jeffers throttled the _Fafnir_ up to a slow walk, looking on with interest as Martins showed her the various highlights of the line.  In particular, she noticed the place where the Capellans had attempted to break out of their entrenchment.  Half a dozen metal skeletons were piled on the ruins of a hotel, only one of them recognizable, a 40-ton _Battle Cobra_.  After that she saw "Battle Boulevard," where a charge by the Fourth's Second Battalion had ended with fifteen 'Mechs and twenty-two armored vehicles destroyed and one hundred fifty-two dead soldiers, by far the costliest single engagement of the battle for Liao.

       "This is—aw, dammit, ma'am, hang on a second."  Martins raised a hand to the side of his helmet, an unconscious habit.  "Interested in seeing some action?" he asked after a moment.      

       "By all means, Lieutenant, lead the way."

       The Gnomes leapt quickly toward the site of the fighting, where, Martins told her, the Capellans were attempting another breakout.  Golf Company of the Third Battalion was under heavy attack, but if the attempt could be stopped, it would most likely be the Capellans' death knell.  If the aerofighters were successful in cutting off their supply convoys, the planet Liao would likely be under control of the Principality by early August.

       The battle was already underway when Jeffers' force arrived.  A half dozen 'Mechs, most of them belonging to Tikonov, had been blown to pieces in the fighting.  Jeffers focused her gauss rifles at an enemy _Owens_, blasting the light 'Mech's right LRM launcher off its shoulder.  The _Owens_ turned to run, only to be felled by a flight of LRMs from Jeffers' lancemate.

       The _Owens_' death did not go unnoticed.  Immediately, a _Thor_'s PPC sliced armor from the lancemate's _Vulture_, and the Capellan didn't stop there, following up with a long burst from the _Thor_'s autocannon that broke through the _Vulture_'s skin, setting off internal explosions.  Jeffers' lancemate ejected, flying high into the air on the rocket module . . . until a stray piece of shrapnel impaled the chair's power core, sending it cartwheeling into the street in a brilliant explosion.

       Jeffers tried not to think about her friend's death, firing at the _Thor_ with both gauss rifles, pounding the 'Mech's arm with the silvery projectiles.  Despite the damage, the particle cannon returned with a bolt of artificial lightning that whipped the _Fafnir_ across its chest, burning off a half-ton of armor and spiking the heat in her cockpit.

       "A little help would be appreciated," she said, painfully aware of the damage the _Fafnir_ had endured earlier in the day.  "Sometime in the immediate future."

       As if in response, a red laser lanced out into the _Thor_'s side, connecting it to a running _Death's Head_.  The 90-ton assault 'Mech launched its store of short-range missiles, the wash of explosions making pockmarks all over the _Thor_'s upper chassis.  With the _Thor_'s attention diverted, Jeffers took the time to line up a proper shot, donating a pair of gauss rounds to the chaos.

       "Balls!" the MechWarrior in the _Death's Head_ shouted when the _Thor _shot off his large laser.  He returned fire with the 'Mech's autocannon, devastating the _Thor_'s arm, shooting right through the elbow joint and leaving the PPC rocking back and forth on the street below.  Another shot from a gauss rifle ended the _Thor_'s troubles, and the big 'Mech fell face-first to the ground.  It did not get up.

       "What's the situation?" Jeffers asked, scanning for more targets.  She didn't find any.

       "This is Captain Bailey, thanks for the backup, Major.  The Capellans are retreating back behind the line, but we got nine of their 'Mechs before they did.  We've lost eight ourselves, but then, we've got more than they do."

       Jeffers nodded to herself.  It was a bloody war of attrition, but in the end, the Liao Planetary Militia wouldn't be the one coming out on top.

       "Captain Bailey, the area is secure.  The Capellans made it back to the line."

       "Thank you, James.  And thank you again, Major Jeffers."

       "Anytime, anywhere," Jeffers said.  "We'll be heading back to the CP now.  Luck."


	5. Part 3

**WarShip FSS _Warspite_, Ulan Bator Orbit**

Liao Commonality 

**Capellan Confederation**

August 12, 3219 

"Well," said Edward, "that was certainly easy."

       Shenke nodded.  "Indeed it was.  Perhaps this war will be over sooner than we expected."

       To say that it was an odd situation was a massive understatement.  As soon as the task force had challenged the planet the commander of Ulan Bator's defensive force, the single battalion of the Thirtieth Liao Commonality Militia Guard, had surrendered to the SLDF.  Only an hour later, they had received a second message from the planet, informing them that the planetary governor of Ulan Bator had resigned, leaving the planet in the hands of an interim government that was already advocating cessation from the Capellan Confederation and annexation by the Tikonov Principality.

       "I can't say that I'm sorry we didn't have to fight for it," Edward said, "but I would have liked to get the experience under our people's belts.  Ulan Bator was our soft training mission, after all."

       "Right."  Originally, Edward had intended to hit Liao, but when the news that the Principality Armed Forces had taken control of the planet had reached his armada en route to the Confederation, he'd had to rework his strategy. 

"Well, does the government of Ulan Bator request any peacekeeping forces from us?" Edward asked.

       "They do not, though the President offers us his hospitality.  He'd like us to dine with him tonight."  Shenke shrugged.  "Hey, sir, it's free food . . ."

       "That's what I was thinking.  And we need some time to recharge the JumpShips anyway."  He nodded.  "Sure, why not?  While you're at it, try to get shore leave for some of our troops.  Pick a regiment randomly; make sure it's not one from the First Crucis."

       "Wouldn't want to seem like we're playing favorites, after all," Shenke agreed.  The ops officer still thought that Edward had assigned himself a needlessly complicated task force; the Luthien Samurai Guard had deeply ingrained tradition, and that tradition included an age-old feud with the Federated Suns.  Shenke would have happily left them with Kanrei Kurita's task force, but Edward had insisted in having them along.  To make things better, Yoshi Kurita _had_ issued the strictest of orders to Tai-sa Genimocho the commander of the Samurai Guard, commanding him to comply with Edward's orders (and secretly informing Edward that he would not mind if, as Commander-in-Chief, Edward found it necessary to relieve Genimocho of his command).  However, the fanatical Kuritans were having some trouble with foreign troops, including those from the Second Robinson Rangers, the regiment the Draconis March Federation had contributed to the effort.

       Shenke had reamed the idiot whose decision it had been to station the Robinson Rangers aboard the Drac JumpShip _Moon Blade_, but the damage had been done, namely a massive riot aboard the ship that had seen MechWarriors from the Federation and the Combine killed and wounded.  That incident had lasted two days and had finally ended when Edward had threatened to order the _Moon Blade_'s captain to perform an emergency detachment of the offenders' DropShips, to be left in an empty, uninhabited system to fend for themselves until the task force picked them up on the return trip out.  Some quick and tactful shuffling by Shenke had avoided another such incident, and the imbecile responsible for the mistake had been scrubbing bulkheads ever since.  From what Shenke heard, so had the Samurai Guard, and he was certain that the commander of the Second Robinson had exacted a similar punishment upon his command.

       "If you wouldn't mind my saying, sir," said Leftenant-General Allen Kell, idly sprawled out in an acceleration chair, "I think that we ought to let the Odell Regulars head down.  They've been the most cooperative, and they really had their stuff together when we, ah, had our relocating incident of the week before last."

       Allen Kell's origins were as unique as his abilities in the cockpit of a BattleMech.  Descended of the exiled Wolf Clan's Khan Phelan Kell and Ranna Kerensky, both of whom had died fighting in the Word of Blake Jihad, Allen's great-grandfather Ramius had been raised by Morgan Kell and, as legend told, Victor Steiner-Davion on Arc-Royal.  Allen's grandfather and father had been loyal servants of the Republic of the Sphere, until the Republic's failed attempt at conquering the Inner Sphere.  Grandpa Kell had died in that massive war, but Kyle Kell, Allen's father, and Ulysses Kell, Allen's uncle, had survived.  Disheartened by the Republic's betrayal of his trust, they had found themselves in the service of the Davions, and the Federated Suns half of the Kell family had risen to great fame in the AFFS.  His son Allen, born on Saginaw, had continued the tradition quite nicely, in Edward's opinion.

       "Indeed.  Your thoughts, Colonel Shenke?"

       "Makes sense to me," he said.

       "Well, there you have it, folks," Edward said.  "The Odell Regulars it is.  Someone give the happy news to Colonel Merewether, and then call up President Wing and tell him we'd be honored to accept his invitation."

Prince's Palace, Tikonov 

**Tikonov Principality**

Prince Zander set aside the last paper, signed with a fresh pen, and leaned back in his chair, taking care not to rumple the expensive black suit he was wearing.  He had to make an appearance before the media in a few minutes, and took the time to run through his speech in his head.

       Of course, there was the good news that the Principality had defeated the garrison forces on Liao.  Actually, Zander had been aware of this for a week, ever since Rain Jeffers' report had come in on the HPG.  He was fairly certain that ROM had read the dispatch and informed the Star League Council of the situation, and Jeffers had told him that she'd contacted Edward Davion's task force to let the Commander-in-Chief of the SLDF know that Liao had fallen.  Nonetheless, his announcement would be a surprise to the average citizen of the Inner Sphere, and it would do a great deal to improve the Principality's reputation, now that it was scoring victories against one of the established Great Houses.

       Zander's reign as Prince of Tikonov had gone relatively well, especially when compared with the tenure of his unfortunate predecessor, the late Charlemagne Kerensky-Liao.  Charlemagne had been ill suited for rule of the Principality, as Zander had proven to him before ending his life in this very office.  He'd had the wood paneling reworked to get rid of the bloodstains, and was sitting in a new chair, but it was still the same old office.  After convincing the people of the Principality—and more importantly, the military—that Charlemagne had been responsible for the death of the beloved Lady Janice, Zander's coup had been complete.  The only one who knew the truth was Rain Jeffers, and she would remain quiet as long as work was good and his pocket was deep.  Zander knew that she didn't like him, but he also knew that she knew he was the best paying employer in the Inner Sphere, and Jeffers was first and foremost a mercenary, with a mercenary's constant need for hard cash.  And hard cash Zander could deliver, with the Principality's economy blooming, selling BattleMech components to the Federated Suns.

       "Your Grace," said his aid over the intercom, "we're ready."

       "Thank you, David," Zander said.  He stood up, straightening his suit, and headed for the door, picking up the Tikonov Starburst pin, the one that honored the members of the TPAF, and fastened it to his coat.  The gold and rubies in the badge contrasted sharply with the flat black of his attire, ensuring its notice by the press.  It was the only decoration that Zander ever wore.

       The pressroom was one of the least impressive chambers in the Palace.  Its walls were covered in a pleasant blue, and the various reporters and cameramen were already in their places when Zander entered.  He stood at the podium and gave the holoprompter a glance.  Zander tried to memorize his speeches whenever possible, but this one had been drafted at such a late date that the time simply hadn't existed for proper memorization.

       "Citizens of the Principality, and all peoples of the Inner Sphere," he began, "it is on this day that I announce an event that benefits not only the Principality, but the proponents of freedom and liberty everywhere.  Just a week ago, the valiant members of our Armed Forces—" led, he did not add, by a mercenary commander "—took control of the planet Liao, capital of the Capellan Confederation's Liao Commonality.  We have scored our first victory against the tyranny of Chancellor Liao, the very man who raped our worlds and ordered the murder of our beloved Lady Janice.  Even now, we plan further operations to ensure the sovereignty of the Principality, and the safety and freedom of our people.  I wish to commend the brave men and women of the Fourth Tikonov Regular Guard, as well as the equally commendable men and women of Major Jeffers' Lonesome Vanguards Battalion, without whom Tikonov itself would have fallen.  My sincerest condolences go out to those who have given loyal sons and daughters to the cause of Tikonov, and I promise that as I live and breath, their sacrifices will not have been in vain.  I will take questions now."

       "Your Grace," said one reporter, the senior correspondent from INN, before all the others, "what further military action does the Principality plan?"

       "In the interest of operational security, I can only answer you vaguely.  The Principality, working in concert with the task force from the SLDF, will do anything and everything necessary to maintain the freedom of the people."

       "Your Grace, what of the news that Ulan Bator is requesting annexation?"

       Zander had hoped not to answer that question until he could figure out what the Principality's official position was.  Certainly, he had a definite idea, but the details had yet to be hammered out between him and the Foreign Ministry.  "My ministers and I are still discussing that matter.  Because of the implications of annexing Ulan Bator, it will most likely be put to the voters to decide.  However, I strongly favor bringing more worlds into the Principality, so long as they join willingly."

       "Your Grace, what do you mean by 'working in concert' with SLDF units?  Will we be launching a joint attack against the Capellans?"

       "You might say," Zander said with a smile, "that we have already.  Seriously, we haven't yet discussed all the possibilities with the Star League.  As you know, our petition for membership is still going through.  However, General Davion has expressed a keen interest in working closely with our troops."

       "Will there be a—"

       "Any further questions you have can be asked through my chief of staff."  Zander shrugged.  "I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but the business of state requires my attention.  That will be all."

**New Athens University, Ulan Bator**

**Liao Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

"This lobster," said Allen Kell, "it really is exquisite.  Where they grown here?"

       "Ha!  If only we could be so lucky."  The very recently elected President of Ulan Bator laughed heartily at his own joke.  "No, no, it was imported.  From Sian, nonetheless!  We dine on the Chancellor's shellfish tonight, gentlemen!"

       Justin Wing was a large man, one of Ulan Bator's wealthiest natives.  Despite his high position, he was quite generous, having already donated a great deal of his fortune, most of it within the last ten hours, to the cause of rebuilding Ulan Bator's civilian government.  From what Edward had seen, he seemed generally interested in helping his people, and his election had been a landslide, with over eighty percent of the popular vote.  Wing's first act as President had been to resurrect the old Constitution of Ulan Bator, which specifically limited his time in office to one term of six years.  That decision was what had truly convinced Edward to leave Wing in power, and the President had been only happy to comply with the security precautions he had taken.  Capellan POWs and their 'Mechs had been transferred to the DropShips that had been brought along for just that purpose, and the JumpShip RDS _Månsdotter_ was already making its way toward the nadir jump point.

       "I must agree, Mr. President, it is wonderful lobster.  But where did the brandy come from?" Shenke asked, swirling the rusty brown liquid in his glass.

       "Now that I can claim credit for.  Brewed and bottled right here in New Athens, actually."

       "It's very good," Shenke said.  Edward made a mental note to tell his chief operations officer to stop drinking the next time he caught him somewhat alone.

       "When will you be embarking for your next target?" Wing asked.  Edward grimaced.

       "As soon as the JumpShips' batteries are recharged," he said, answering the question without giving a specific date.  "As much as I'd like to stay and have more of this lobster—and brandy—we really do have our jobs to be getting back to."

       "I hope I haven't delayed you at all . . ."

       "Oh, of course not, Mr. President."  Edward drained the rest of his glass, setting it aside.  "As I said, we do have to recharge the JumpShips' batteries.  That always takes some time."

       "Hmm."  Wing looked around sheepishly.  "I must say, General, your reputation certainly precedes you.  I understand that you even fought in the Republic War.  That you were at the Battle of Terra."

       "Well, to be specific, I was at the Third Battle of Terra, which just happened to be the largest."  He shrugged.  "Fourth Terra was more of an afterthought that anything else; the war was over by then.  But yes, I was on Terra during the Winter Campaign."

       "Did you see any combat?"

       "Ah, yes, quite a bit, in fact."  Edward shifted, feeling the heat spreading across his face.  "It wasn't fun, but we had to do it.  The Republic had to be stopped."  He shrugged.  "Oh, what the hell.  So we—Company C, Second Battalion, Davion Heavy Guards—were patrolling at the base of the Cascade Mountains, on the North American continent, over by a city called Seattle.  We were hunting down this Paladin, Jeremy White.  White had a lance of heavies with him, and was moving toward the city.  Command wanted us to nail him before he got there, because the city hadn't been evacuated yet.  I was in command of the second lance, Hound Lance."  Kell snickered at the name, prompting Edward to shoot a glare his direction.  "Anyhow, the Hounds were on the company's western flank, and my forward scout reported sighting White's 'Mech, a big bruiser of a _Daemon_.  We were all in medium to lights, so I called in the sighting to my boss, Captain Turgesson.  Turgesson knew we were outgunned, so he ordered me to stay back—and I did.  But the next thing I knew, three of White's escorts had doubled back and were behind us.  They must have picked up the transmission or something.  I lost two of my lance while we tried to break contact, and debris from an autocannon shot that went through my cockpit broke my leg."  He grimaced, remembering that day, remembering while the _Atlas_ and the _Mad Cat II_ blasted at his lance, remembered as the _Fafnir _circled around to ambush them when they retreated.  He remembered how ammunition explosions had blown Jake's _Legionnaire_ apart, and how little Tina in her _Raven_ had taken a gauss round in the cockpit.

       "I'm sorry," Wing said.  "What happened to White?"

       "While he and his cronies were pounding the hell out of my Hounds, the rest of the company came in."  Edward allowed himself a small smile.  "Jeremy White, unfortunately, did not make it out of his cockpit."

       Kell raised his glass.  "To absent comrades."

       Edward joined the toast with a newly refilled glass, as did Shenke, who missed the clink in the middle.  Wing gave them a solemn nod, not trying to join in the soldiers' ritual.  The brandy was smooth going down Edward's throat, the hearty taste reminding him very much of his dead.

       "That was my first combat experience," Edward said.  "I plaid a minor role in the assault on Hilton Head, though I am proud to say that I fought beside the Ninth RCT at New Manhattan."

       Shenke blinked.  "Hell, boss, I didn't know you were at New Manhattan."

       The Battle of New Manhattan, fought during the closing days of the Third Terran Campaign, was one of those battles that was talked about in the halls of the Nagelring and the New Avalon Military Academy, there with the likes of the defense of Luthien against the Clans and the Battles of New Avalon.  Twelve BattleMech regiments, seven from the Star League Defense Forces and six from the Republic Army, had been engaged at New Manhattan, fighting to capture the Exarch.  In the end, only three and a half 'Mech regiments had emerged, and the Exarch had been killed in the fighting.  The war, however, was over.

       "I don't talk about it a lot," Edward said.  "It was a hard battle, but it had to be fought.  And fight it we did."

       The door of to one side of the dining room opened, and a man in the uniform of an LAAF leutnant entered to whisper in Edward's ear.  The general listened, slowly placing his utensils on the table.

       "Oh my God," he said when the leutnant had finished.  "Call a meeting of my staff.  I'm sorry, Mr. President, but recent developments must pull me away from this meal."  He gave a short bow as he stood to leave, Kell and Shenke right behind him.  Once they were out in the hallway, Shenke, who had sobered considerably in a matter of seconds, was the first to voice the two officers' concerns.

       "Eddie," he said, "what's going on?"

       Edward Davion grimaced.  "The Free Worlds Republic has attacked Tharkad," he said, as they walked out the door.


	6. Part 4

Tharkad City, Tharkad 

**Donegal Province**

**Lyran Alliance**

**August 14, 3219**

Archon Donavan Steiner sat alone in the command briefing room buried deep in the bowels of the Nonagon, the nine-sided command center for the Lyran Alliance Armed Forces.  The Nonagon had been built after the Blakist Jihad, standing below the shadow of the rebuilt Triad.  It was the site where Victor Steiner-Davion, leading the Tenth Lyran Guards, had made his final stand, where he had killed the leader of the Blakist attack on Tharkad by self-destructing the fusion reactor of his _Daishi_, Prometheus.  A massive statue of Victor now stood in the center of the Nonagon, raising three stories into the sky, the Savior of Tharkad's hand outstretched toward the stars.

       Now, a foreign invader was once again advancing on the Triad, and Donavan Steiner and his soldiers had had little success in stopping them.  So many of the elite units usually stationed on Tharkad were away, fighting in the Star League's invasion of the Free Worlds Republic—an invasion that was supposed to keep the Free Worlders occupied with their own affairs.  What Donavan did have was the Fifth Donegal Guard and Kommandant General Ferguson, along with the First Regiment of the mercenary Black Knight Legion, under Lieutenant Colonel Nasinec.

       "Archon," said Marcus Steiner, the General of the Armies, "Ferguson is reporting in.  The Free Worlders have brought another battalion of 'Mechs into play, and at least another regiment of armor.  They can't hold New Dublin forever, sir."

       "I know," Donavan spat viciously.  "Dammit, I know.  But he doesn't have to hold indefinitely.  Colonel Eikman will be here in two days with the rest of the Black Knight Legion, and the 607th Com Guard Division is only another week behind them."  He shook his head.  "Dammit, Marc, I was just so confident.  Of course the Free Worlders wouldn't attack here, they were supposed to be busy with us attacking them.  And surely our naval reserve would have been enough to fend off anything they had . . ."

       "You had no way of knowing that they'd bring half the Free Worlds Navy along with them," Marcus said.  "Ordering our ships to retreat was the best option available.  Lord knows how long it would take us to replace ten WarShips."

       Donavan shifted uncomfortably.  "Tell Ferguson that I can appreciate his circumstances, but that he must not retreat.  The Free Worlders want New Dublin badly, and that means we cannot afford to give it to them.  If they take New Dublin, their next target will most certainly be Tharkad City."  He grimaced, looking at the map of his capital that was pinned against the far wall.  "And a battle for Tharkad City will make New Dublin's civilian casualties look like a Solaris pregame event."

**New Dublin, Tharkad**

**Donegal Province**

**Lyran Alliance**

       "Pike Two, watch your six, that _Grand Titan_ is going for you—"

       "Able Seven, I need some cover—"

       "—Bravo One requesting artillery—"

       "Jesus, I'm hit—"

       "—Free Worlders—all over the place—"

       Sergeant Wizinowski ran his RFL-8D _Rifleman_ through the streets of New Dublin, the 'Mech's legs pumping in the air as he pushed it to its maximum capacity.  Ahead, lasers crisscrossed and explosions marked where 'Mechs had fallen as black smoke curled into the dark red sky.

       Two large lasers burned past Wizinowski, going to either side of the _Rifleman_.  The sergeant ground to a halt, dropping his crosshairs over the attacking _Ostsol_.  His medium lasers were dead on target, and the stream of shells from his rotary autocannons knocked the wounded Free Worlder onto its back.  The _Ostsol_ did not get back up.

       "Wiz, where are you?" Leutnant Davison demanded.  A moment later, Wizinowski's report was cut short as a Free Worlder _Wolverine_ stepped into his field of sight.

       "Hang on a bit, sir," he said, firing at the 55-ton 'Mech, blowing apart the building behind it but inflicting little damage to his actual target.  The _Wolverine_'s particle projection cannon whipped artificial lightning across the _Rifleman_'s chest, knocking Wizinowski off-target.  For a dangerous moment, his 'Mech tottered back on one foot, but he threw himself forward in his seat, and his neurohelmet transmitted the action to his 'Mech, which complied, righting itself and bringing its crosshairs down on the _Wolverine_.

       The _Wolverine_ was not content to wait.  It vaulted into the air, riding twin jets of ion fire, soaring above him.  Wizinowski considered going after it, but he remembered Davison's frantic call.

       "Leutnant, this is Wizinowski.  What's the situation?"

       "I'm three blocks west of you . . . with Jackson.  We need your guns, Sarge.  Get here quick."

       Wizinowski was already moving toward them, bowling through a building that was in his way.  The twenty-story office building was no match for his 60-ton _Rifleman_, and Wiz soon found himself walking down Vera Avenue.  In no time, he had reached Davison's position, just in time to see Jackson's _Wasp_ go down under the fire of a Free Worlder _Shadow Hawk_.  Wizinowski returned the favor, blasting the _Shadow Hawk_ against a warehouse.  The Free Worlder tried to escape, backpedaling through the warehouse, but it tripped in the rubble and went down hard.

       "Jackson, you read?" Wizinowski heard Davison asked.

       "Damn, ouch, yeah, I'm here, L-T.  Christ, my 'Mech is dead, though, sir.  Count me out."

       "Put out a rescue beacon," Davison said.  "Someone will be along to get you.  Wiz, what's your status?"

       "I've got some light damage.  Mostly just missing armor.  And my AC ammo is down 46 percent."

       "Okay, you're fine."  Davison's _Uziel _looked beat up, but it was obviously still functional.  The Leutnant motioned with one PPC, pointing down the street with the other.  "You game?"

       "Always, sir."

       "You fine by yourself, Jackson?"

       "Should be.  I can always surrender if I have to."

       "Good point."  Davison started down 17th, leading Wizinowski down the artificial canyon.  "All right, there's a _Grand Titan_ up there giving some of our light comrades a spot of trouble.  Want to go ruin his day?"

       "I'd like nothing better."

       They found the _Grand Titan _standing by the burned out hulk of an _Osiris_, firing at a _Locust_ that had taken shelter in a narrow alley.  The Free Worlder obviously didn't see the Lyrans coming, for Davison's twin particle beams and a long burst from Wizinowski's autocannons took the 'Mech completely off-guard.  The Free Worlder fell to the street with a crash, landing flat on its back.  However, it was far from finished, levering its arm up and hitting Wizinowski in the leg with a large laser.  The bright beam of ruby energy fused the _Rifleman_'s ankle, and this time, Wizinowski did lose control.  The next thing he knew, he was looking at pavement through his shattered windshield.

       "Wiz, stay down, he's ignoring you," Davison said.  "If you're still with it," he added to himself, just loud enough for the radio to pick up.

       _Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss,_ Wiz thought to himself, listening to the thudding of the _Grand Titan_'s footsteps as it moved to fight the _Uziel_.  He heard the telltale crackle of the Leutnant's PPCs going off, and then the _Grand Titan_'s autocannon firing a steady staccato.  Explosions sounded, and something metal bounced off the top of the _Rifleman_, the impact resonating through its metal hull.  Wizinowski swore to himself as he listened to something too heavy to be Davison's _Uziel_ tromp off—

       The familiar trill of a laser stopped it, and Wizinowski wanted to scream.  _The _Locust!  _Now's my chance_.

       Wizinowski brought the _Rifleman_ upright as fast as the massive 'Mech would permit, leveling his autocannons at the _Grand Titan_.  Its pilot seemed shocked to see a 'Mech he knew was dead firing at him, for his response was delayed, allowing the _Locust_ to smear molten armor across its chest with its chin-mounted medium laser, and Wizinowski depressed the firing tabs on either joystick.

       The rotary autocannons made a funny whining sound as they spun, and he could feel the heat from the fire flashing at their muzzles through his open canopy.  Depleted uranium slugs tracked up the _Grand Titan_'s leg, across its chest, back up as Wizinowski corrected—

       The Free Worlder ejected just before the stream of metal blew the _Grand Titan_'s head across the street.

       "Son of a bitch," Wizinowski groaned, finally feeling the pain emanating from his shoulder.  He rubbed the offending joint where he had been slammed against his restraint harness.  "Leutnant?  Leutnant Davison, do you copy?" he asked.

       There was no response.

       "Dammit," Wizinowski muttered, "this just gets better and better."

       In the distance, he could see a platoon of Bulldog tanks escorting an LRM carrier down the street.  He checked their identification with his somewhat intact HUD—Black Knight Legionnaires.

       "Hey, Legionnaires, how'd you like an escort from your big brother?" he asked.   

       "Hell, we'd love it, _Rifleman_.  You're welcome to join us."

       "Sure thing.  By the way, the name's Wizinowski.  Sergeant Wizinowski."

       "Hot damn, Sarge, seems I outrank you.  This is Lieutenant Crow.  Got a lance, Wizinowski?"

       He looked one more time at Davison's smoldering _Uziel_, and then shook his head.  "That's a negative, sir.  My lancemates are down."

       "Well, welcome to Eagle Platoon of the Black Knight Legion, Wizinowski.  Care to be a merc for a while?"

       "That sounds fantastic, sir."

       Captain-Colonel Andrew Blake—no relation to the famed founder of ComStar—checked his watch for the third time in five minutes.

       "Sir, don't worry.  We'll make the beach."

       "Dammit," he snarled at his chief of staff, "we don't have anymore Goddamn time to be sticking around here!  The Lyrans aren't stupid, and if they catch us while we're still in these damn boats, we'll be marching in from the bottom of the river."

       Not that it was an impossibility.  Certainly, the infantry and armored elements of his command would be finished, but the battalion of BattleMechs from the First Oriente Hussars would be able to walk ashore.  It would take about two hours longer, but it would be possible.

       However, without the infantry and armored support, his battalion of BattleMechs would have a hard time achieving their objective.

       "Just because BattleMechs are the most advanced weapon man has ever created," he said to his chief of staff, "doesn't mean that they are the only weapon, nor the best weapon for every job.  We cannot capture the Lyran command center with 'Mechs alone, not if we want to guarantee capture or termination of General Ferguson."

       His chief of staff merely nodded, which was enough of a concession for Andrew Blake.  As second in command of the Oriente Hussars, he had been the natural choice to lead what Colonel-General Meyer thought was a bright and innovative effort to decapitate the Fifth Donegal Guard.  While Blake agreed that neutralizing Ferguson would give the Free Worlders a definite advantage, loading a special task force into a fleet of transports fifty kilometers upstream on the New Dublin River, and then driving said force down to New Dublin, landing them in the Lyrans' rear, was not, in Blake's opinion, very smart.  The fact that the unarmed transports had minimal aerofighter support did not help; if the Lyrans managed to spot them, they would almost certainly call in an air strike in sufficient force to overwhelm their defenders.  And though most of his MechWarriors were already sealed into their battle machines, Andrew Blake was not, and he had no desire to drown for some idiot's noble but nonetheless idiotic endeavor.

       "Sir," said the lance corporal whose job it was to drive the flagship transport, a commerce barge commandeered from the Lyran merchant service, "we're coming up on our target zone now.  We'll be ready to commence landing operations in ten minutes."

       "Great," Blake said, "that's just fantastic.  I want every 'Mech warmed up and ready to go _now_."  He donned his helmet.  "I'll be leaving now.  You have my radio channel."

       "Yes, sir," his chief of staff said.

       "Good.  Make sure you maintain radio contact with me—"

       The gauss slug entered through one side of the bridge, punching out one wall without slowing appreciably and cutting Blake's chief of staff in half before the captain-colonel could blink.  It was followed by an immediate barrage by a flight of long- and short-range missiles fired by the six Fifth Donegal 'Mechs that Blake could now see standing on the shore.  The transport was rocked as its sister simply exploded, and then another gauss round impacted, this one below the waterline.

       Blake was running for the gaping hole in the wall when a laser beam turned his world to fire.


	7. Part 5

**Avalon City, New Avalon**

**Crucis March**

**Federated Suns**

**August 15, 3219**

Feng tossed the rifle to the Maskirovka agent, who quickly checked it and chambered a round.  The agent slung the rifle over his shoulder and adjusted his gloves.

       "That everything?" Feng asked.    

       The agent stashed two more clips in his belt and nodded.  "I'll be back here in an hour," he said.  "And you'd sure as hell be ready to trash the evidence."

       "Got that.  The charges will be set, and we'll have moved everything to Site B."

       "Excellent."  The agent walked out the door.

       Feng wondered how he was going to get to the Davion Palace with the rifle, but really, that wasn't his problem.  His problem would be taking care of his own chores before the agent returned, lest the Intelligence Secretariat discover them.  Feng put his mind to the task ahead of him, and tried not to think of the agent.

       The agent moved quickly down the long access hallway that ran beneath the Davion Palace.  He doubted that the Intelligence Secretariat even knew it still existed; the hallway had originally been built during the ill-fated reign of Katherine Steiner-Davion as a secret escape for the Archon-Princess, or whatever people were calling her these days.  It had never been used, Katherine having opted to submit to her brother's mercy rather than try to evade capture.  It had been a good choice, in the end; she had ultimately done well in the Wolf Clan.  Had the agent been there, he most certainly would have pressured Victor Steiner-Davion to kill her, but then, he hadn't, and from what he'd read, he doubted that the warrior prince would have listened anyhow.

       He reached the end of the hallway, and cracked open the door at the end, listening carefully for guards.  The agent knew exactly where he was going.  There was a service elevator, rarely used by the Palace staff, which would take him up into the Lucien Tower, one of the new constructions that had been built after the third Blakist attack on New Avalon.  The Lucien Tower offered a clear shot at the top of the Alexander Tower, where Anderson Davion and his entire family were now having lunch, according to the agent's plant in the Palace.

       It would be an easy slaughter.

       The agent planned on escaping another way, for Palace Security would almost certainly close of Lucien Tower's elevator systems.  The agent planned to hide on the maintenance ladder that ran parallel with the elevator, built in a ledge just deep enough so that a man would not be clipped by a passing car.  The agent was prepared to wait there for days, if necessary, but he fully intended to be out within five hours.

       His alternate plan was more daring; fake his own suicidal leap from the Lucien Tower and disappear.  That plan was more likely to fail, and fail miserably.

       The service elevator began its rapid ascent to the viewing gallery at the very top of the Lucien Tower.  When the doors slid open, the agent was very surprised to see the cleaner standing there, his hand outstretched to punch the call button for the very elevator the agent was riding in.  The agent had been trained well, though, and the cleaner died from a single gunshot before he could make a sound.  Securing the room with a quick glance, the agent moved to the window.

       The glass was easily cut with the laser scalpel the agent had brought along, leaving a hole large enough to give him unrestricted aim.  He looked through the scope, down the long, black barrel, settling the black crosshair on Anderson Davion.

       Slowly, his finger drew back the slack in the trigger.  Stroke it smoothly, gently, like a lover . . .

       Crack!  The First Prince of the Federated Suns fell dead to the floor with a single bullet in his heart.  But the agent was already aiming at his next target, Anderson's wife Emily, who fell with a bleeding hole in her forehead.  A third shot, this one aimed at Anderson's son Patrick.  The aim was off, tore open his shoulder.  The agent cursed his misjudgment, and put a round between Patrick Davion's eyes.  The last target was still looking around, dazed.  Anderson's daughter Bernice fell in the pool of her family's blood, adding her own fluids to the mix.

       At the last instant the agent saw Jan Hakados.  Without thinking, he put a shot into the Intelligence Secretary, knocking him against the far wall.  He left a smear of crimson as he slid to the floor.

       The agent left the window, starting for the elevator shaft.

       Suddenly, totally unexpected, he heard a gun cock.

       And he knew he was dead even before the maelstrom of fire tore him apart.

       Feng was running back to the car.  It was packed, and the fuse was set.  Within a minute, the safehouse would be nothing but a billowing firestorm, and frankly, the CCAF captain couldn't be happier, for that safehouse contained enough evidence to damn him and his comrades a thousand times in a Davion court.  Not that they would need to convict him that many times.

       The most unexpected sight of the business end of an autorifle stopped him dead in his tracks.

       They were not Palace Security people.  Rather, they wore AFFS battle fatigues, their insignia marking them as being from the Davion Light Guards, and they certainly meant business.  Feng froze, hand still outstretched, reaching for the car door.

       "On the ground, motherfucker!" their leader screamed, banishing any thought Feng had of reaching for the needle pistol holstered on his hip.  He complied, practically throwing himself to the street.  His comrade, a lieutenant from the Maskirovka, did not, and a burst from an autorifle was enough to tell Feng that his own decision had been a wise one.

       Well, wise in the short-term, at least.  If the agent had succeeded in killing the royal family, Feng didn't expect his long-term life expectancy to be anything to write home about.

**CCS _Celestial Glory_, Sian Orbit**

**Sian Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

"Good morning, General," said the Maskirovka interrogator, his voice dripping with contempt.  "I trust you've been enjoying the past few months you've spent in the Confederation."

       "Oh," snarled Lara Steiner, "they've just been dandy."

       Lara Steiner, formerly the commander of the Twelfth Donegal Guard, had been captured by the CCAF on Bharat.  Reeling from the series of defeats handed to him by the Star League Defense Forces, Chancellor Chong-lo Liao had decided to save a little face and have the senior peacekeeper he had captured grandiosely executed in a prominent ceremony.  Which didn't bode well for one Lara Steiner.

       "I'm glad you find your accommodations suitable.  I hope you don't mind Major Ti.  He'll be joining us today.  He's from the CCAF, the Fourth Sian Guard, actually."

       "Oh, fantastic."  The newcomer was shorter than her Maskirovka tormentor, with softer features and short hair.  His uniform was crisp, and if she read the insignia right, he was an accomplished MechWarrior.

       To confirm her assessment, the Maskirovka agent continued.  "Major Ti is here to advise me on the technicalities of BattleMech combat.  He has great skill in this field."

       "So I see.  Too bad he's never seen combat."

       Major Ti answered her.  "Actually, ma'am, I have, albeit against Periphery pirates, not an honest-to-God military unit."

       "Oh, believe me, the Capellan Armed Forces hardly constitute what I would call an honest-to-God military unit," Lara said dryly.  "You probably would have a harder time with the pirates."

       "They were good enough to get you," Ti observed.

       "Point taken.  Though I am more inclined to believe that the reason for my defeat lies in the fact that the Twelfth Donegal was outnumbered five to one, but I suppose it is feasible that I was beaten by a superior MechWarrior."  She laughed.  "Or maybe I was hit by one of my own.  Accidents happen, in the heat of combat."

       "Enough," snarled the interrogator, obviously angry that the conversation had drifted out of his control.  "General Steiner," he said, "my government would . . . greatly appreciate any information you believe would assist the Confederation's war effort, specifically information pertaining to the military capabilities of the Lyran Alliance or other elements of the Star League Defense Forces."

       "Go to hell," she said.  "You've got nothing on me.  I'm already going to be hanged."

       The Maskirovka interrogator got very close to her face.  "Actually, General Steiner, I think that we do have something to hold against you.  It is correct that you will be hanged, regardless of what you tell us.  But there are many ways to botch a hanging—ways that end in great pain for the victim."  He smiled.  "But if you cooperate with us, I'm sure that won't be a problem."

       Lara's face paled, but the expression of calm defiance remained the same.  "Go," she said, "to hell."

       "Fine."  The interrogator beckoned for Major Ti to follow him out.  "We'll be back tomorrow, General Steiner.  And we'll see if you haven't had a change in heart."

**Tharkad City, Tharkad**

**Donegal Province**

**Lyran Alliance**

**August 18, 3219**

Archon Donavan Steiner looked at the BattleMech that stood in the Nonagon's underground 'Mech bay.  It was his own personal machine, the _Hauptmann_ he had christened Anubis, the ancient Egyptian god of death.  Painted in bold blue and white, the 'Mech was loaded with a gauss rifle and a 12cm autocannon, as well as an impressive complement of lasers.  The engineers who had customized it for him had included a Thunderbolt missile launcher just above the standard LRM launcher, giving Donavan a single projectile with which to deliver a fantastic punch.

       "You're sure you're going to do this, Donavan?" asked Marcus, putting his hand on the Archon's shoulder.  "My men will keep the Free Worlders from taking the Triad.  There is no need for you to—"

       "There is, Marcus," Donavan said.  "Since its conception, the Archon of the Lyran state has led his troops into battle.  I'm no slouch in a BattleMech myself, and I intend to continue that tradition."

       "But sir, the damage to the Alliance if you are killed—"

       "The damage to the Alliance will be greater if Tharkad is captured," Donavan said.  "So you and your men will just have to watch my back, won't you?  Hurry up, my friend, and go to your 'Mech.  We'll need every one today."

       Leutnant Dietfried Rossbach blinked when he heard his company commander's warning.

       "Ah, sir, could you repeat that, please?" he said, running his _Mad Cat_ through the streets of Tharkad City, toward the front with the Free Worlders on 19th Street.

       "You heard me, Rossbach.  Watch the Archon, make sure he doesn't get into trouble.  I swear, if the paint on his 'Mech is marred, you'll wish you bought it tonight, Rossbach.  Cover.  The.  Archon."

       "Roger, that, Hauptmann, I won't let you down."  Rossbach shook his head.  "Jesus.  What did I ever do!"  He keyed for his lancemates' attention.  "Listen up, Killers.  We're on guard duty."

       "Who?" asked Sergeant Loland.

       "The Archon.  Form up on me and no matter what, don't let anything happen to this guy.  He's the big white and blue _Hauptmann_."  As if they didn't know what the Archon's 'Mech looked like.  "I'm serious, if one of you blows it, I'll have your ass."

       Archon Donavan's _Hauptmann_ appeared a few blocks north, and Rossbach increased his 'Mech's speed to catch up.  Beside the _Hauptmann_ was a _Masakari_ that Rossbach guessed belonged to General of the Armies Marcus Steiner.  He suppressed the impulse to groan and programmed his comlink to Donavan's frequency.

       "This is Leutnant Rossbach and Killer lance, at your service, sir," he said.  "Is there something you'd like smashed?"

       "Glad to meet you, Leutnant.  Shall we find some Free Worlders?"

       "Nothing would please me more, Archon."  He switched back to the lance frequency.  "Okay, Killers, you know the drill.  I want a tight circle around the Archon.  Anything that looks at him the wrong way gets burned.  Questions?  No?  Excellent."

       The six 'Mechs stalked toward the area of the city where the Free Worlders were engaged with the Second and Third Regiments of the Black Knight Legion and the Third Battalion of the Fifth Donegal.  The mercenaries had already broken the Free Worlders once, but that brief change in fortunes had ended in the destruction of a company of Legionnaire 'Mechs.  The rest of the Black Knights were not likely to forget that incident, and Rossbach almost felt sorry for the Free Worlders fighting them.

       Almost.

       "Boss, looks like we've got Free Worlder 'Mechs incoming.  Four of 'em, all heavy to assault size."

       "Okay, people, look sharp, we've got incoming."  Rossbach checked his displays to make sure his weapons were up and running.  "Mike, did you have a direction on those bodies?"

       "Coming in from the north.  Range is six hundred meters."

       _Jesus.  Six hundred meters?_  That was well within range of most weapons systems.  _Where the hell are they?_ Rossbach wondered.

       No more than three hundred meters up the street, a _Jupiter_ turned the corner, firing both PPCs at the Lyran 'Mechs.  The _Dreadnought_ beside Rossbach exploded under the onslaught, pieces of the 'Mech thudding against the _Mad Cat_'s side.  Rossbach returned fire, burning a pair of molten trenches along the _Jupiter_'s chest with his large lasers.  The loss of so much armor threw the _Jupiter_ off-balance, and the obviously inexperienced pilot couldn't recover in time to save his 'Mech from toppling into an office building.  While metal crushed beneath the heavy _Jupiter_, Loland's _Catapult_ launched a barrage of long-range missiles into its back.  Marcus Steiner's _Masakari_ fired a pair of particle beams into the _Jupiter_'s back, and internal explosions wracked its body.  The _Jupiter_ was definitely out.

       "Look sharp, we've got a _Devastator_ and a _Longbow_ coming in," warned Private Utterman.  "The fourth 'Mech is an _Awesome_, about two hundred meters past them."

       "Engage!" Rossbach said.  He barreled down the street, kicking aside a passenger car that someone had abandoned when the fighting had started.  He rounded the corner just ahead of Marcus Steiner, in time to see Utterman's _Orion_ take a gauss round in the shoulder.  A flurry of large pulse lasers flashed from the _Orion_'s chest-mounted guns, fired at something out of view, presumably the _Devastator_.

       Rossbach ran across the street, firing his LRMs at the _Devastator_.  The missile warheads peppered the Free Worlder 'Mech's armor, followed closely by a large laser beam from Utterman.  Marcus Steiner fired his PPCs, lashing the _Devastator_ with artificial lightning, and the Archon rounded the corner to finish it with a gauss round through the chest.  The now-burning _Devastator_ fell flat on its back, unmoving.

       An incoming flight of missiles reminded Rossbach of the _Longbow_.  Most of the LRMs hit the pavement around the Lyran 'Mechs, blasting chunks of ferrocrete into their sides.  Rossbach fired his lasers and missed, and the _Longbow_ fired its own pair of medium lasers, burning a long scar on the _Masakari_.  General Steiner was victim to the _Longbow_'s next volley of missiles, the cadence of explosions driving his 'Mech to the ground.

       Three particle beams sizzled past Rossbach to impacted against the downed _Masakari_'s head.  The front half of the OmniMech was blown away, and dark smoke wafted into the sky from the burning wreck.

       Rossbach fired at the _Awesome_, this time hitting with his arm-mounted large and medium lasers.  The ruby energy beams dragged a swath of destruction across the _Awesome_'s front, but the Free Worlder continued on uninhibited as Archon Donavan brought his guns to bear.

       A burst from the Archon's autocannon punched through the _Longbow_'s right missile pod while the gauss rifle struck the _Awesome_'s leg, crushing the knee joint.  The _Awesome_ fell to the street, sliding into the lobby of a deserted hotel while the _Longbow_ swiveled to meet its attacker.  Donavan's second shot with the autocannon went straight into the _Longbow_'s cockpit, blowing out the back of its head in a gout of flame and broken metal.  The _Hauptmann _stocked toward the downed _Awesome_.

       Rossbach instinctively held back from the Free Worlder assault 'Mech, but he kept his guns trained on it lest it make an unexpected move.  He flinched when Donavan fired his autocannon, walking the fire through the 'Mech's fusion reactor and up into its head.  A moment later, a massive explosion blasted the 'Mech apart.  Rossbach grimaced at the Archon's vengeful act—understandable, certainly, but it showed a side to his nation's leader that he hadn't liked to think existed.

       "All units!  All units!  This is Black Knight Command!  Begin retreat to the southern side of the city for immediate evacuation!  DropShips are inbound!  The perimeter is breached, and Free Worlders are advancing on the Triad!"

       "Colonel Nasinec, this is Archon Steiner!  I remand that order—"

       "Colonel Nasinec is dead, sir.  First Regiment is gone.  There's nothing between the Free Worlders and the whole western half of this city!  We're still contracted to you, sir, but dammit, the Fifth Donegal is breaking, too!  If no one gets out of this alive, no one is left to retake Tharkad from these bastards!"

       "Who is this?" Donavan demanded.

       "Goddammit, sir!  Do you think this is easy for me?  The Lyran Alliance is my home too!  Get on a DropShip—we'll hold them until you're airborne.  Please, Archon.  There will be another day."

       Rossbach watched the _Hauptmann_ through his windshield.  Slowly, it turned toward the north, starting to walk toward the frontline.

       "Archon Steiner, this is Leutnant Rossbach.  You will turn yourself around and go to those DropShips _right now_.  _Do you understand me?_"

       "I didn't think I took orders from you, Leutnant," Donavan said icily.  Rossbach ran his 'Mech up to jump in front of Steiner.  As he did, he realized that he was in a very dicey position.  Donavan could simply shoot him—and be legally correct in doing so—for what he had just done.

       "Sir," he said quickly, before Donavan had the chance to speak, "a lot of men and women have died today, and all for the Lyran Alliance.  Now whatever you think, let me, as a loyal subject, tell you the reality of life.  Tharkad isn't the Alliance—_you are_.  If you buy it today, the Alliance will be crushed.  Sure, we might recover in ten or twenty years, but do you think that bastard Corrigan is going to wait that long?  We need you alive, sir, and if you can't see that, then you might as well shoot me right now, because I'm not willing to live in an Alliance without you."

       Donavan was quiet for a moment.  Then, his 'Mech shifted its weight, and his voice sounded in Rossbach's earpiece.

       "Lead the way," the Archon said.


	8. Part 6

**FSS _Warspite_, Uninhabited System**

**Capella Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**August 20, 3219**

Edward Davion stepped into the communications center of the WarShip, clasping his hands behind him.  He took the time to smile at the technicians working in the center, finally making his way over to where Shenke stood with Kell and Commander Gronnigen, the navy keeper of the WarShip's Black Box.  Still a guarded secret, though no longer exclusive to the Federated Suns, the Black Box allowed FTL communication outside of ComStar.  In this age of ComStar's friendship with House Davion, the Black Boxes were seeing less and less use, but they were still valuable when units were operating away from one of ComStar's HPG arrays.  

        "What is it?" Edward asked.  Gronnigen handed him the dispatch.

       "For your eyes only," he said, quietly.  "To be shared at your discretion."

       Edward grimaced.  "What is it?"

       "Haven't read it, sir."

       He nodded.  It was serious if Gronnigen didn't know about it—it was his job to screen the material coming off the Black Box.  It took Edward only a moment to understand why.

       "This is genuine?" he asked.  "Oh, of course it is.  Ah, thank you, Commander.  You . . . you'll understand in a short while.  Bill, Allen, my briefing room, ten minutes." Edward folded the paper under his arm, the full weight of what it had said hitting him like a sledgehammer in the gut.  "And get Marshal Hasek."

       Anderson Davion was dead.

Davion Palace, New Avalon 

**Crucis March**

**Federated Suns**

First Prince Shane Hector Davion sat in the desk that, until last week, had been occupied by his older brother.  The new ruler of the Federated Suns folded his hands in his lap, looking at Field Marshal Irwin Scott, who acted in Marshal of the Armies Hasek's capacity during her absence from the capital.  Scott sat next to Brent Tain, the Acting Minister of Intelligence, who shifted uncomfortably in the plush leather chair he was sitting in.  All three men were conspicuously aware that different people had occupied their seats only a week earlier.

       "Well," said Shane, "here we are.  We'd better get used to it, because it's the lot we've drawn.  Brent, what've you got for us today?"

       "It was definitely the Capellans, Your Grace," Tain said.  "Our interrogation of the leader of the assassination team, Captain Feng of the Confederation Armed Forces, confirmed that it was a Maskirovka operation.  We won't be able to use to confession in court, of course, but then, we won't really need to."

       Shane nodded.  It was enough to confirm that Captain Feng was no longer among the living.  "Besides the obvious, where does this leave us?"

       "Well, the mission must have been in place for over a year.  Earlier interrogations revealed that the original target was Minister of Intelligence Hakados, but the target was changed after the war started.  If anything, that's enough to crucify Chong-lo when this is over.  Even the Star League Council won't let him get away with that."

       "Or," said Marshal Scott, "it gives us the perfect opportunity to rationalize assassinating him ourselves."

       _It wouldn't be the first time House Davion had used such means, _Shane thought.  _Unfortunately, we've usually been caught at it in some way or form.  Even when we pulled it off, there was still suspicion—correct suspicion._  "No," said Shane, "I think that's a bad idea.  Right now, we're definitely holding the moral high ground.  Chong-lo is Lucifer in the eyes of the Council, and I'd like to keep him that way as long as I can."

       Shane liked to think of himself as something of a hybrid in Davion's service, a citizen-soldier who also happened to be a politician.  Indeed, until a week ago, General Shane Davion had commanded the Davion Light Guards.  During his career in the AFFS, Shane had spent more time learning the ins and outs of politics in his native realm than he had actually fighting—his single combat action had been as a lance commander, in a small firefight against a pair of pirate 'Mechs.

       "So what do we do?" Tain asked.

       "We support the Principality more than Anderson ever did, and we appeal to the Star League for damages from the Capellans when this thing is over.  If we do everything by the books, all proper for the newsies and the citizenry, then House Liao will be well and truly screwed after all is said and done."  Shane smiled grimly.  "_That_ is something I definitely look forward to."

       "Perhaps we'll be able to show them something a bit sooner than we'd expected," Scott said.  "I just got the report from Admiral Blakely, and Project Glorious is nearing completion.  He says that we can expect to see results by the first of September."

       "September?  That's three months ahead of schedule, if I remember correctly," Shane said.  "Damn.  Who lit a fire under his ass?"

       "I believe we have the Capellans to thank for that.  And other, ah, unfortunate events that have occurred thus far."

       Tain and Davion both knew what Scott was talking about.  The previous months of war had seen the loss of numerous WarShips from all nationalities—even two of Tikonov's JumpShips, the vessels that were usually exempt from danger in combat.  Though with the years of prosperity had significantly increased the size of both civilian and military fleets, a Kearny-Fuchida-equipped vessel was still a massive investment of capital.  The gross national products of entire systems had died with those ships, and Project Glorious would do a lot to repair the strength of the Star League's available naval forces, not to mention increasing the relative standing of the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns.

       "Actually, Your Grace, I've been thinking about Glorious, and it's my opinion that we really ought to launch an offensive with the elements it produces, as soon as they become available."

       "You're talking about a purely naval offensive?" Shane asked.

       Scott nodded.  "Yes, Your Grace.  A spearhead straight into the heart of our enemies, targeted at crippling their jump capabilities.  Obviously, the objective would be to capture or cripple, rather than destroy, any JumpShips or WarShips that are encountered, but if we do it right, we could really lock up a nation's ability to fight.  After all, what can a unit do, even the most elite fighting unit, if it can't get off the planet it's on?  Sure, we won't actually capture any worlds, but it'll be the next best thing to controlling them."

       "Hmm.  Draw up a deployment plan, and have it on my desk by Thursday."  Shane frowned.  "Who are you thinking of as a target, the Capellans?  Most of their naval assets are tied up around the Principality—where the TPAF is kicking the snot out of them, I might add."

       The Tikonov Principality's meager navy had indeed been doing quite well for itself, especially after the AFFS had "loaned" it the use of two Avalon Class cruisers and a quartet of Hrothgar combat DropShips.  Using hit and fade tactics, they had already claimed two outright kills against Confederation WarShips, and had grievously damaged the flagship of the operation, the _Sun-Tzu Liao_.

       "No," answered Scott, "the Confederation navy is finished as far as directly affecting the war is concerned, and the Free Worlds Republic is too far away.  I actually wanted to use Project Glorious against our friends the Nova Cats."

       "Really?"

       "Yes, Your Grace.  SaKhan Tseng isn't doing so well against them—I mean, he's doing a wonderful job at keeping them out of the war, but the Ghost Bears have actually lost every major battle with the Cats.  Taking the heat off them will do a lot for our long-term relations . . . and it'll give us a chance to give a little to the Clanners, remind them who happens to be better."

       "Works for me," Shane said.  "Brent?"

       "Well, you know me, I always like an opportunity to inflict punishment on the Clans," the Intelligence Minister said.  "I'm for it."

       "Glad to know I'm governing with the support of my committee," Shane said with a slight smile.  "All right, folks, let's get to it.  We've got a lot to do before the next Star League Conference, and only a little time in which to do it."

**Jackson Plain, Kurragin**

**Capella Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**August 21, 3219**

Two companies of the Lonesome Vanguards Regiment had dropped onto Kurragin directly out of orbit, landing in the rear of the Second Cappella Commonality Guards, attacking before the rest of the regiment was even on the ground.  By the time Colonel Rain Jeffers had landed with the rest of her 'Mechs, the Second CCG was fighting a pitched battle on the outskirts of the capital.

       "Scoot, look left now, watch my back."  Jeffers' _Fafnir_ ambled over the dusty salt flats of the Jackson Plain.  The colonel was watching her HUD, paying more attention to the ongoing battle than the immediate area.  "I don't want any Capellans sneaking up on me here."

       "Have I ever let you down before, Vanguard?" Scoot asked.  Jeffers hardly heard him.

       The Second CCG had sent a battalion to engage Major Yountz's detachment.  Yountz and his people were holding their own, but their attack had lost its momentum, and they would be overrun if someone didn't take the pressure off—soon.

       "Okay, Green One, Gold One, we attack hard _now_, right down the middle," Jeffers said to the commanders of Second and Third Battalions.  "Hit 'em and don't let up, because we only get one chance at this."  _And for once,_ she thought, _my esteemed employer's intelligence has failed._

       Zander's intelligence sources, whose identity was still unknown to Jeffers, had predicted with near certainty that only a battalion of the Second CCG was stationed on Kurragin.  _Looks like you were wrong this time, Your Majesty._

       "Colonel," said Scoot, "now might be a good time to start paying attention to your surroundings.  We got company . . ."

       "Red Two to Red One.  A full company of Capellan 'Mechs is inbound, medium to heavy range.  One assault, a _BattleMaster_.  Radar has detected a flight of copters to the west, range fifteen klicks.  They'll be on us in a couple of minutes."

       "Got it, Red Two," Scoot answered.  "Care to dance, Vanguard?"

       "Ask me sometime later."

       There was a devilish pause.  "Does that mean you'll consider it?"

       "Sure."

       "Hot damn!" Scoot yelped victoriously, only a moment before he opened fire.

       With the new BattleMechs Zander had provided for the Lonesome Vanguards, Scoot had upgraded to a new _Tsunami_.  The Kurita-built 'Mech was 90 tons of unstoppable fury, armed with three PPCs, a 10cm autocannon, and an LRM launcher.  During the Davion-Kurita détente that had followed the war with The Republic, a number of the machines had been sold to the AFFS.  Scoot's had been one of Anderson Davion's final gifts to the Tikonov Principality.

       Now, particle beams crackled across the salt flats, blasting through the shoulder joint of a Capellan _Lao Hu_.  The CCG 'Mech returned fire, sweeping its pulse lasers in a broad arc that spattered energy bolts into both Scoot and Jeffers.

       Rain Jeffers fired her heavy gauss rifles into the _Lao Hu_'s legs.  The Capellan went down . . . and stayed there.

       "Look out, Jeffers, there's an _Ostroc_ to your rear."

       To reiterate that point, two medium lasers burned into the _Fafnir_'s back.

       "Okay, let's take him, Scoot."  Jeffers cut left, swinging her torso around and firing her large lasers at the charging Liao 'Mech.  She missed, but it made the Capellan MechWarrior miss with his own lasers.  Scoot stepped forward, pummeling the _Ostroc_ from the rear with his autocannon, blasting chips of armor into the air.

       The _Ostroc_ tottered forward, but its pilot managed to regain control just before it fell, and instead it ran forward and out of Scoot's field of vision.  Jeffers fired a gauss rifle in its wake, succeeding only in excavating a massive amount of dirt and crusted salt.  The _Ostroc_ headed for the relative safety of its lance, careful to cover the now paper-thin plating on its rear torso.

       "Red One, this is Red Two, we're clear."

       "Great.  Damage?"

       "Nothing too major.  Red Three's gyros are off, though.  I sent him back to the DropShip for a checkup."

       "This is Red Four, sir, I'm golden."

       "Excellent."  Scoot waved the _Tsunami_'s right arm at Jeffers' 'Mech.  "We're good to go, Colonel.  Just lead the way."

       "Sure thing, Scoot.  All units, we attack _now_."


	9. Part 7

**FSS _Warspite_, Capella Orbit**

**Capella Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**August 25, 3219**

"I have the distinct feeling that this is not going to be pleasant," said Edward Davion to Shenke, Kell, Hasek, and Tai-sa Katsuro Genimocho as they looked over the intelligence reports from orbital observation of Capella.

       "I would have to share that sentiment, sir," Genimocho said.  "I would like to volunteer the Samurai Guard for the duty of assaulting the spaceport."

       "Um."  Edward nodded slowly.  "Yes, I think that'll do.  It goes without saying that it'll be a top priority to take as much of the spaceport facility as possible intact.  We'll use the spaceport as a staging area for our DropShips, which should make the rest of this thing a bit easier in the long run.  All right, Shenke, let's hear what you've got."

       "Thank you, sir."  Shenke stood up, carefully avoiding eye contact with Edward.  Had he met his friend's gaze, he knew that he would have had to notice the dark circles around his eyes.  Edward Davion had slept little since the news of Anderson's assassination had reached the fleet.

       The same was probably true for every man and woman assigned to Task Force Aleph.  Edward had decided—correctly, in Shenke's opinion—that it would be less of a blow to morale to just come out and tell the fleet the truth.  Nothing could bring the First Prince back, and the troops—especially those in the AFFS—were better off hearing it from a trusted commander rather than learning it from a Capellan POW.  Five days later, the wound still hurt, but the personnel assigned to the task force had rededicated themselves to the war effort, ready once more to take it to the tyrant who had murdered their liege—or, at least, the liege of their comrades.

       Edward hoped that their dedication overpowered the desire for revenge.  Chong-lo obviously meant to keep Capella, having committed two regimental combat teams and a number of mercenaries to its defense.  The First Confederation Heavy Cavalry, under General Miriam Sinclair, was probably one of the best units under the banner of the CCAF.  Supporting Sinclair was General Wu Lin's Third Sian Regulars, recently imported from the Capellan capital.  Sinclair had also been given a BattleMech battalion operating under the name of Nigel Nirvuel's Brighton Bashers, a merc unit recently chartered under the sponsorship of the Capellan government.

       The Brighton Bashers would be no problem, but they were just the window dressing.  Edward was certain that Sinclair would use the mercenaries as a throwaway reserve, and worried more about what she would do with General Wu.  Shenke had dug up both Sinclair's and Wu's files in the Intelligence Ministry database, and they had all been surprised to discover that the two officers had worked together before, during the Confederation's short border conflict with the Taurian Concordat.  Wu Lin had a reputation as a hotheaded officer, an unstoppable force who would do his level best to destroy anything and everything he was pointed at.  Kell had observed that he would make a damned good battalion commander, but at the head of an RCT, Wu was out of his element.

       Sinclair, on the other hand, had been commanding multi-regiment forces for nearly half her CCAF career.  She was cold and calculating, with more than enough political connections to go with her considerable martial skill.  Granted, fighting against the Taurians was a walk in the part compared to combat against the militaries of the Great Houses of the Inner Sphere, but Sinclair had definite potential to be a phenomenal thorn in the Star League's already tender side.

       "Another thing we need to consider," Hasek said, "is the pace of this campaign.  The battle for Capella is going to last some time—at least a couple of months.  We need to rescue General Steiner by January 1, and we can't do that if we're still bogged down here."

       "I'd been thinking about that myself, ma'am," said Shenke, "and I think I devised something of a solution.  It will take us about three weeks to get to Sian from here.  Our battle plan for liberating General Steiner involves an attack by AFFS marines on the Capellan WarShip that's housing our people that coincides with an assault on the planet itself, specifically the Celestial Palace.  Chong-lo's capture will be the major priority, and once we have him, we force him to surrender.

       "To succeed, we need at bare minimum an RCT.  To pull this off we need to hit Sian hard and fast—faster than they're expecting."  He grimaced.  "We may even have to consider hitting the planet from orbit with our WarShips."

       "That," said Genimocho, "would be a most undesirable course of action."

       "I know," said Edward, "but it's better than destroying multiple regiments on _both_ sides fighting for the capital.  There are at least six Capellan 'Mech regiments on Sian, and Chong-lo, cowardly bastard that he is, has probably reinforced his capital."

       "How do we even know that Chong-lo will be on Sian?" Hasek asked.

       "If he abandon's it, he essentially abandons the Confederation, and the people will recognize that," Edward said.  "Either way, we win.  He can't fight the war with the capital _and_ the people against him.  Hell, half the military hates him anyway—remember how many people we had defecting from the units we captured on Ulan Bator?"

       "Okay, so who do we send to Sian?" Kell asked.

       "First Crucis Lancers," Shenke said.  Genimocho, to Edward's surprise, nodded adamantly.  _A little too adamantly . . ._

       "You planned this," Edward said.  It was a statement, not a question.

       "Guilty as charged," Shenke said.  "I even made sure that Kell would ask who we were going to send."

       "I was in on it, too," Hasek said, "but they just couldn't figure out a part for me to play."  She smiled.  "So I nod vigorously."

       "God."  Edward shook his head.  "Shenke.  Why?"

       "Face it, General, the First Crucis is the best RCT we have.  Your veterans have experience in urban combat from Tikonov—and _that_ was some dirty fighting.  We can trust the Lancers not to get bogged down, because that's what will really kill the operation.  They'll have to always be moving, because any group that gets cut-off in that situation is dead."  Shenke smiled.  "So.  The First Crucis lands as close to the palace as is humanly possible, and then beelines it to take Chong-lo hostage.  If he's killed, the op is dead; if he gets away, the op is dead.  And once captured, it'll take a little convincing to get Chancellor Liao to surrender—which is why you have to be there, Edward."

       "Me?  Shouldn't I be commanding the force on Capella?"  Edward gestured at Kell.  "Allen here can handle that, he's as good a commander as I am."

       "Well, I have to agree, but I'm not the Commander-in-Chief of the SLDF," said Kell.  "That, Eddie my boy, is an honor held exclusively by you, yourself, and . . . you."

       "General," said Sarah Hasek, "none of us have the clout necessary to get Chong-lo to sign a peace agreement.  Not to mention the fact that you're the only one authorized to make peace on behalf of the Star League."

       "Damn."  Edward grimaced and clapped at the same time.  "I must admit, you people thought this out thoroughly.  All right, I concede the point, and will lead the attack on Sian, as Bill has laid it out for us.  However, for the brief time that I am on Capella, I will retain strategic command, as is my right as your extremely capable commander."  That drew a laugh, mostly from Kell and Shenke.  "However, when I leave with the First Crucis—and the WarShips, because I have a feeling that the fighting won't just be on the planet—"

       "Probably a good guess, sir," Kell said.

       "Thank you," Edward said.  "Anyhow, when I leave with the First Crucis, Marshal Hasek is in charge.  Bill, I regret to inform you that your services will not be needed on Sian; there's a great deal more you can do for Sarah here than during a battle that'll probably only last an hour anyway."  Shenke nodded.  "It's settled, then:  the First Crucis disembarks for Sian on December 1, 3219.  If that date works for all of you."

       "You know, I think I have something then . . ." started Genimocho.

       "Good.  Since no one but the sworn enemy of my House has a problem," said Edward with a wry smile, "I'd just love to hear what Bill has planned for us on Capella."

Prince's Palace, Tikonov 

**Tikonov Principality**

_I don't think I'm going to be able to handle six,_ thought Zander, bringing his simulated _Masakari_ around the cover of a small knoll.  _Especially not with two of my particle cannons out of commission.  On the other hand, I've already killed twenty-one 'Mechs, so maybe the damage is understandable . . ._

       An enemy _Yu Huang_ appeared in his HUD, trotting around in a wide circle to try to get behind him.  Zander let go with both of his remaining PPCs, relishing the sudden burst of heat that entered his cockpit while at the same time grimacing at the simulation programmer's inability to use anything but House Liao 'Mechs as adversaries.  If the Tikonov Principality were to endure for any length of time, the TPAF would fight more than just Capellans.

       The one House they would never fight—at least not during Zander's reign—was Davion.  First Anderson and then Shane had been very good to the Principality, essentially buying Zander's loyalty with financial support and shipments of foreign weapons.  With the EarthWerks and MegaMech factories up and manufacturing at full capacity, the Principality had no shortfall in either income or homegrown weapons, and Zander had already commissioned projects to design several new BattleMech models.  Soon, he hoped that the pocketbooks would be sufficiently large enough to build a shipyard complex over Tikonov, shipyards that could be used to bolster the Principality's fleet of JumpShips and DropShips . . . and to create the nation's first WarShips.

       _Yes,_ thought Zander as he watched his two particle beams miss by a healthy margin, _it's quite the little empire I'm building here._

       The _Yu Huang_ hastily returned fire with a gauss rifle, pounding the silver melon-sized projectile into the _Masakari_'s left arm.  Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending upon who one was pulling for), the two PPCs in that arm had already been fused shut in a previous engagement.  The impact did throw off Zander's aim just as he loosed his last salvo of LRMs.  The missiles flew off to explode harmlessly in the dirt, and Zander cursed softly.

       He never allowed his subordinates to see him curse, nor did he utter such words during public appearances.  Such remarks, especially from a public figure, were a sign of distress, and Zander would rather allow his enemies—and his potential allies—to think that nothing fazed him, that he was in total control of the beast he was riding.

       For the most part, that was true.

       Really, the only thing in the Principality that worried him was one Colonel Rain Jeffers.  The quintessential mercenary, Zander had discovered that she would do anything for money (and the more, the better).  He would never admit it to the public, but a healthy percentage of Tikonov's GNP went into maintaining the Lonesome Vanguards.  Jeffers never asked for any of the gifts she received, and Zander intended to keep it that way, because it kept her satisfied.

       The fact was, Jeffers knew far too much about Zander's business, especially his ascension to the Principality's throne.  As far as he knew, Jeffers was the only person who knew that it was he, not the late Charlemagne Kerensky-Liao, who had allowed the likewise deceased Lady Janice Liao fall into the hands of Capellan troops.  Lady Janice had been executed, and, once his position on Tikonov was secure, Zander had let Charlemagne take the fall for it . . . shortly before killing the former Clanner himself.

       Zander waited patiently for the PPCs to recycle—patience seemed to be in such short supply these days—and carefully aimed at the _Yu Huang_.  Gently, he depressed the trigger.

       The particle beams hit dead on, vaporizing the enemy 'Mech's cockpit head.  _One threat out of the way,_ Zander thought.

       Unfortunately, Jeffers was not such an easy threat to extinguish.  Though Zander had been steadily reworking the officer corps of the Tikonov Principality Armed Forces, sweeping away the political appointees and replacing them with new, young, _capable_ men and women, Jeffers was still his best and, truly, his only capable officer.  Add in the fact that she was a celebrity in her own right, the unofficial champion of the Principality, and it was clear to Zander that he couldn't just assassinate her as he had Charlemagne, at least not without the proper groundwork.

       Two _Helioses_ got the drop on him, hitting the _Masakari _in the rear with two gauss slugs.  The simulation ended, the sim cockpit HUD informing Zander that his 'Mech's fusion reactor had exploded.

       Suddenly, Zander had an epiphany.

       And he knew.

       He knew how to negate the threat of Rain Jeffers.

       Zander allowed himself a small smile—indeed, a brief chuckle—as he emerged from the 'Mech simulator.


	10. Part 8

New New Bremerton, Kurragin 

**Capella Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**September 1, 3219**

Trumpets blasted in the air as the Independent Congress of Kurragin played the national anthem of Kurragin, a little ditty that dated back to the days before the BattleMech.  Rain Jeffers tried hard not to roll her eyes while the Capellan commander made a big show of surrendering his command to the CO of the Kurragin National Guard.

       "This is bullshit," Scoot whispered next to her.  "They ought to be surrendering to us, considering that the Kurragin National Guard only came into being yesterday."

       "Yeah," Jeffers answered, "but you have to at least understand their position.  We did kick their asses quite handily."

       "Basically," said Hank Yountz, "they're cowards."

       "Yup."  Jeffers hushed the two officers.  "Now quiet."

       Colonel Jonathan Heng, the former executive officer of the Second Capella Commonality Guards, had assumed command after General Lao-Fe had died in combat.  He stood in a CCAF dress uniform, dwarfed by his own 'Mech, a 50-ton _Huron Warrior_ standing deactivated behind him.  Heng held his service pistol in gloved hands.  With great ceremony, he handed the weapon to General Masao Tanaka, bowing slightly before executing a smart about-face and marching back to his assembled troops.

       Jeffers ignored the rest of the ceremony, turning back to her senior officers.  Scoot had already gotten into the wine and caviar.  Jeffers had at first been surprised to learn that Scoot was actually an aficionado of the exotic dish, but after she'd had time to think about it, it had really fit in perfectly with his jigsaw-puzzle personality.

       "Umph," Scoot said through a mouthful of fish eggs.  "Dis is rear-ree goo.  Oo shou ry um."

       "Thanks, Scoot, I'll bear that in mind."  Jeffers shook a finger at him.  "Just don't overdue; I don't want to dance with a drunk tonight."

       With a great amount of effort, Scoot swallowed the food in his mouth.  "Oh, don't worry about me.  We Alders, we can hold our alcohol . . ."

       "Did you know his last name was Alder?" Yountz asked her quietly.  Jeffers shrugged.

       "I must've seen it on a roster _some_where."  She frowned thoughtfully.  "You know, no, on second thought, he was always just 'Scoot.'  Even on the pay sheet."  She shook her head.  "How about that, huh?"

       "Ma'am."  It was Sergeant Quintinar, one of the staff personnel Jeffers had reluctantly hired when the Lonesome Vanguards had been expanded into a regiment.  "There's a communiqué from Tikonov, marked your eyes only," he continued after she had returned his salute.

       Jeffers started.  "Um.  Thank you, Sergeant."  She took the sealed envelope he offered.  "If that is all, you're dismissed.  Go enjoy yourself, Sergeant."

       "Thank you, ma'am."

       She quickly unsealed the envelope, reading the three lines of print.

       "Crap."

       "What is it, Colonel?" Yountz asked.

       "Somethin' wrong, Rain?" added Scoot.

       "I think that dance will have to wait, Scoot," she said.  "We've been recalled.  Prince Zander wants us back on Tikonov.  ASAP."

**FSS _Glorious_, System 5284**

**Dahar March**

**Federated Suns**

"Helm," said Rear Admiral Cassius Ver Burg, "all ahead one gee."

       "All ahead one gee, aye, sir."  Slowly, the WarShip's engines came online, powering the massive ship—the largest jump-capable vessel ever constructed—out of its docking slip at a single gravity's acceleration.  Ver Burg sighed as the familiar wash of gravity came over him.  A true spacer, he reveled in the weightlessness of zero-g, but sometimes it was nice to be able to stay on the ground when one walked around.

       The three Glorious Class WarShips—_Glorious_, _Victory_, and the _Anderson Davion_ (originally destined to bear the name _New Syrtis_)—belonged to an all-new level of military starships.  They had tentatively been classified as battleship-carriers, but now some officers in the FedSuns navy were saying that the term "superbattleship" was more accurate.  Ver Burg himself tended to favor the latter rather than the former, but whatever they ended up being called, the Glorious ships would change the way WarShips were made.

       Each was armed with over a hundred naval-grade weapons, including lasers, particle cannons, Killer Whale and White Shark missile launchers, and lasers.  A single Glorious played host to three specially designed Mantis Class attack DropShips and four flights ofOmnifighters.  Furthermore, the WarShip mounted two more docking points to carry additional DropShips.

       Ver Burg was looking forward to commanding the squadron in combat.

       "Captain?"

       "All systems are go, sir," reported Captain Tyrone Utterman.  "It's all working.  God, it's all working!"

       "_Victory _and _Anderson Davion_ report ready for action."

       "Secure for jump," Ver Burg said.  Shortly the appropriate alarms sounded, warning the crew that a jump was imminent.

       "We are secured for jump, sir.  The _Victory_ and _Anderson Davion_ report secured for jump."

       "Helm, you may jump."

       The universe seemed to stretch into infinity as the FSS _Glorious_'s Kearny-Fuchida drive engaged.

**Oproro, Capella**

**Capella Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**September 3, 3219**

"Allen, what's your position?"

       "I'm with First Batt in the northeast corner of Grid Square 12," reported Kell from his BattleMech on the streets of the city of Oproro.  "I think I'm engaging the mercs."  There was a pause.  "Okay, yeah, I just got a good look at one of their 'Mechs.  It's definitely the Brighton Bashers, Company A, if I read the insignia right."

       "Anything you need?" Bill Shenke asked.  Edward Davion listened silently with an earbug of his own, letting Shenke coordinate the battle for Oproro.

       "Well, some air support would be nice," Kell said.  "Get me a couple aerofighters to scout out the area, maybe harass the Capellans some."

       "Working on it," Shenke said, pointing at a leftenant already calling up the necessary commander.  "All right, advise as necessary."

       "Roger.  Kell out."

       "Well?" Edward asked.

       "It's going as to be expected.  Nirvuel's people are crap.  I'm surprised that the Capellans are using them so early in the battle."  He shrugged.  "But then, they did get the drop on that company from the Fourth Avalon, so . . ."

       "Mm-hmm."  Edward was staring at the tactical map they had set up in their mobile CP.  "Okay, so we hold half the city.  The Samurai Guard is moving north very quickly.  I'm surprised that the Third Sian isn't offering more resistance.  For the most part, they're just running a fighting retreat.  You told Genimocho not to get too far ahead of the rest of the force, in case they're planning a pincer action."

       "Yes."

       "Good."  Edward clapped his hands together.  "Frankly, Bill, you seem to be handling this thing quite nicely."

       "It's my job," he said.

       "Okay, then, I'll be here if you need me."  Edward glanced out the window.  "On second thought . . .  Bill, I'm heading for my 'Mech.  I'll take my command lance out for a bit of a patrol around the perimeter."

       "We have people to do that, sir," Shenke said warningly.

       "Well, now we'll have four more."

       Kell's _Templar_ ran down an unfamiliar street in Oproro, the leftenant-general scanning the various allies and crossroads for any sign of the enemy.  After they'd gotten the hell beaten out of them by First Battalion of the First Crucis, Nirvuel's Bashers had retreated out of the combat zone.  In light to medium 'Mechs, they had quickly outpaced the Lancers' assault team.

       "Crap.  Bug One, do you see anything?"

       "Negative, General."  Several hundred meters above, two _Shilone_ aerofighters looked down on the cityscape.  "There's some heavy fighting to the west, but nothing in your immediate vicinity."

       "Great."  Kell switched to his frequency linking him to Operational Command.  "Shenke, you there?"

       "I hear you."

       "Do you have any idea where those mercs went?  Any radio contacts or visual sighting?" Kell asked.

       "No radio contacts as of yet, but one of our armored scouts reported seeing 'Mechs leaving Oproro from the north, heading for the capital.  Looks like you were too much for the mercs," Shenke said.       

       "Nice to know someone still appreciates me," Kell said.  "Okay, Bug One says there's fighting to the west.  Who is that?"

       "That's Genimocho's Second Battalion, and the Third Sian.  You're welcome to help them out, if you'd like."

       "Well, you'll know where to reach me . . .  Kell out."

       "OPCOM clear."

       Kell called up his battalion commander.  "Major Pflueger?"

       "Roger, sir."

       "Call up the battalion; we're moving to assist our Kuritan brethren.  We'll try a flanking maneuver, get around behind the Third Sian and push them into the Samurai Guard."

       "On it, sir," Pflueger answered.  Immediately, Kell began to see the 'Mechs of First Battalion swinging around, preparing for the ordered maneuver.  "General, the battalion is ready."

       "Let's be about it, then.  Tallyho!"  The _Templar_ hurtled down the street at what Kell considered to be too fast of a pace—which is why he pushed it to that speed.  His lancemates were right behind him, and for the umpteenth time Kell was glad he had insisted that their 'Mechs be just as speedy as his.

       Sergeant Allison McRae was right beside him in a _Mad Cat Mark II_, easily keeping pace with Kell while watching every possible angle for attack.  McRae was probably the best bodyguard Kell had ever had (though in all fairness, she was also the only bodyguard Kell had ever had), and had saved his ass more times than he cared to remember.

       He always remembered, though.

       She never let him forget it.

       "Okay, people," Kell heard Pflueger say, "we've got the Capellans in sight.  I want you people to have your eyes open, because there're a lot of Drac 'Mechs in the area, and I _will_ have the ass of the sorry bastard who hits a Drac!  And then I'll _toss_ him to the Dracs!  Understand?"

       Pflueger must have gotten the answer he wanted, because he immediately reported unit readiness to Kell.  Kell nodded to himself and keyed the radio for Pflueger only.

       "Execute."

       "Execute!" Pflueger echoed to his company commanders, who relayed the message on down the line.  Two seconds later, the 'Mechs of First Battalion, First Regiment, First Crucis Lancers attacked the Third Sian Regulars from the rear.

       Kell dropped his crosshairs over the form of a _Ti Ts'Ang_ and donated it a pair of gauss slugs.  The projectiles blasted aside armor, knocking the _Ti Ts'Ang_ off balance and making it miss a shot at a Kuritan _Phoenix Hawk_.  Kell followed up with a devastating barrage from his large pulse lasers, leaving the _Ti Ts'Ang_ a smoking ruin in the streets.

       "Sir, go left," McRae instructed, and Kell did it, clipping his 'Mech on an office building as he went.  McRae's gauss rifles spoke, impaling a tiny _Anubis_ that had been gunning for Kell.

       "Thanks, McRae."

       "Two beers you owe me," she said.

       "Two?  I only saw the one!" Kell protested.

       "Uh-huh.  That's the point, boss."  She advanced into the fray, firing medium lasers at an unfortunate victim.

       Kell shook his head, and turned to the assistance of a Lancer _Shadow Hawk_.  A _Cyclops_ and a _Stalking Spider _advanced on it, lashing it with particle beams.  The _Shadow Hawk_ fell back, still firing its rotary autocannon, but Kell could see that its fight was far from over, and fired a gauss rifle at the _Stalking Spider_.  One of the 'Mech's knee joints was crushed by the magnetically accelerated slug, and Kell walked his pulse lasers through the remaining legs.  The energy darts boiled off streams of armor and weakened the framework beneath, and the _Stalking Spider_ was betrayed by its own weight, its melting legs kaleidoscoping into the ground.

       The _Cyclops_ did not appreciate this.  A PPC shot slashed into the _Templar_'s left shoulder, burning off an unhealthy amount of armor and raising the temperature in the cockpit by at least ten degrees.  Fortunately—_And that's _three_ beers,_ Kell thought—the _Cyclops_ was not expecting to have a full flight of LRMs explode in its face.

       The _Shadow Hawk_ had pulled itself back on its feet, and used its autocannon to add considerably to the _Cyclops_'s troubles.  Kell found himself on the receiving end of the _Stalking Spider_'s negative attentions, and quickly ran his 'Mech out of its limited field of fire.  He leveled his guns at the immobile 'Mech, counting to five before he fired.

       Just in time, an ejection seat came rocketing out of the _Stalking Spider_'s head, soaring to safety as two gauss slugs penetrated the 'Mech's heart and set off a chain reaction of explosions that left it a burning crust of carbon.

       The MechWarrior piloting the _Cyclops_ decided that his comrade had the right idea, and ejected a few seconds later.

       "Hey, Kell, is that you?"

       "Roger that, and who do I have the privilege of speaking with on this fine day?"

       "This is _Tai-i_ Brigham, commander of the Second Battalion of the Samurai Guard.  Thanks for the assist, Kell," Brigham said.

       "Well, in all honesty, it really doesn't look like you needed it," Kell admitted.  Tension was still somewhat high between the Samurai Guard and the AFFS, though most of Genimocho's officers had followed the lead of their commander and gotten over their prejudices.

       "Thanks anyway, General.  You probably saved some of my boys today."

       "Anytime, _Tai-i_," Kell said.  "Anytime."  He glanced at the still-burning _Stalking Spider_.  "And the truth is, Brigham . . . I just can't _stand_ spiders."****


	11. Part 9

Presidential Palace, Marik 

**Marik Commonwealth**

**Free Worlds Republic**

**September 5, 3219**

"David," said General Romanov, "I received word from Tharkad.  It's ours."

       "Thank God."  David Corrigan ran his hand through graying hair.  A few weeks ago, that hair had been a deep, rich brown.

       A few weeks ago, David Corrigan thought he might win this war.

       "Andrei," he said, "have a seat."  He poured himself a tall shot of whisky from a bottle he kept in his desk.  "All right, tell me what the situation is."

       "We have control of Tharkad.  Actually, we had Tharkad on the twentieth of August, but the damned Com Guards made their last stand _at_ the HPG facility.  The array . . . did not survive intact.  It took this long to get a JumpShip back here."

       "And the Archon?"

       "Archon Steiner escaped the planet," Romanov said.  "Which is, I suppose, for the better, given that he is First Lord of the Star League right now."

       "I would've loved to have taken him captive," Corrigan said.  "It would have been so much easier to plead our case with him, directly.  Now all we have to bargain with is Tharkad."

       "Tharkad is still quite an accomplishment itself, sir," said Romanov.  "Hell, Word of Blake tried three times to take the world, and never managed to.  We did it without nuclear weapons."

       "There's something to be said for that."  Corrigan sighed.  "Look, Andrei, unless you have some fantastic new turn of fortune to report, we are going to lose this war.  The Kanrei is beating hell out of us, and from what I hear from Chong-lo, Davion is doing just as well.  The Star League is going to win."

       "We've got at least two months before Kurita makes it to Marik," Romanov said.  "There's still a chance—"

       "The only chance I have left is to cut a deal with the Star League that lets the Free Worlds Republic continue to exist!"  Corrigan shook his head.  "I probably won't be around to see it, or at least, to control it.  At the very least, Steiner is going to demand my resignation."  He shrugged.  "I'll probably have to abdicate to Cousin Susan . . . who is a total moron.  Goddammit, Andrei, I worked so hard to build the Republic.  This war . . . it seemed like the only way to really break with the Wolves.  Lord knows how much they stole from us.  And of course, the Jade Falcons promised to keep the Star League occupied."  He laughed.  "Well, I guess they got theirs, didn't they?"

       Clan Jade Falcon had launched an offensive across its border with the Lyran Alliance, but the effort had quickly been recalled when the Wolf Clan attacked with all the ferocity of its namesake.  The fighting had left a dozen worlds in ruins, and was finally winding down (due to the incredible costs of the war in men and machines; nineteen Galaxies' worth of equipment had been destroyed).  Likewise, the Ghost Bears had taken the pressure off of the Draconis Combine with a vicious assault against Clan Nova Cat.  And of course, no relief was to be expected from House Liao; Chong-lo had his own problems.

       The Free Worlds Republic was alone.

       "Sir, I'm not sure that any settlement with the Star League will be favorable to the Free Worlds."

       "Au contraire!" Corrigan exclaimed.  This was something he had thought through many times before.  "The Star League wants peace as much as I do, which is why they'll be receptive to any deal I offer.  Now, wait, Andrei, I said _receptive_, and that doesn't mean that they'll automatically accept."  He grimaced.  "In fact, I really doubt they will."

       Romanov nodded.  "I'll make the necessary arrangements.  I don't know if Kurita will agree to meet with you, though.  That's . . . well, I'll make the necessary arrangements."

       "Good.  If there's nothing else . . ."

       "No, sir."

       "You can go then."  Romanov nodded, leaving Corrigan alone with his thoughts.

**CCS _Celestial Glory_, Sian Orbit**

**Sian Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**September 6, 3219**

The Maskirovka interrogator, whose name Lara Steiner had never learned (she suspected he had never offered the information), managed to turn a smile into a sneer as he loomed over her.  She would have loved to punch him in the face, preferably following with a swift kick to the groin, but the Capellans had attached her cuffs to a metal chair inconveniently welded to the deck.

       "You'll be happy to know that our time together is basically complete," he said.  "Thanks to the miracle of modern medicine, I have been able to extract from you all of the information deemed necessary by His Celestial Wisdom.  Your death will be of little consequence to the Confederation."  Behind the interrogator, Major Ti shifted uncomfortably.  "Oh," continued the Maskirovka agent, obviously enjoying himself, "we'll still see each other, from time to time.  Major Ti and I still have to analyze what you told us, after all."  His smile/sneer grew larger.  "And of course I would _never_ miss your big day."

       "Yeah, you would have to remind me about that," Lara said.  "You know, I've heard you say that so many Goddamn times that I really must say it doesn't get to me anymore."  She gave him a sneer of her own.  "How will you feel, uh, Mister, when I don't buckle with fear like you want?  How will you feel when I look you in the eye and smile?"

       He didn't answer.  Not immediately.  The interrogator took a moment to think, to gather himself.  Lara supposed it was just for show; he was a very quick thinker, when it came to cruelty.

       "Somehow, General Steiner, I don't think that will be the case."  He smiled and patted her on the knee.  "Unless you've got anything else to tell us today . . ."

       "I do, in fact."

       "Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow.  "Hoping that cooperation will save you from the hangman?"

       "Not really," she admitted.  "I was just wondering something.  You're losing the war, aren't you?"  She saw Major Ti stiffen, and nodded.  "Yeah, that's what I thought.  Eddie is kicking the everliving crap out of you.  And you know what else I think?  I think that your campaign against Tikonov isn't going so hot, either."  She cocked her head.  "They haven't retaken Bharat yet, have they?  That was where I was captured, you know.  Well, of course you do, you know everything.  But really, that's got to hurt the ol' ego, having a renegade subject paddle your ass.  Charlemagne ended up being more of a man than you thought he was, huh?"

       The interrogator looked like he wanted to be angry, but stopped short of saying anything rash.  "Actually," he said carefully, "Charlemagne Kerensky-Liao is dead."

       She shrugged.  "Makes no difference to me.  I never liked him much."

       The interrogator smiled.  "Good night, General."  He walked out the door, leaving Major Ti to deal with her.

       "Take her back to her cell," Ti said to the two CCAF guards standing behind her.  They quickly undid her bonds, reattaching them after she was free of the chair.  Before they led her out, Lara looked at Major Ti.

       "You know, you really don't agree with them," she said.  "Do you?"

       Ti didn't say anything, but his eyes answered for him.

       In her cell aboard the _Celestial Glory_, Lara Steiner had all the comforts of home—that is, if home was a single room with a small adjacent chamber for the toilet.  It was definitely not high on her list of rooms to spend the last few months of her life in.

       She shivered, her teeth practically chattering with nervous energy.  Lara wasn't sure what the date was—her captors delighted in keeping that bit of information from her—but she had the feeling she was getting close.  A few more months . . . but now the Maskirovka agent was saying that they might move the schedule up a few weeks, as they'd had more progress with the interrogations than they had expected.

       The bastards.

       The Goddamned _bastards_.

       The thing that really got to her was how much the interrogator _enjoyed_ what he did.  She could practically feel the pleasure dripping off him as he asked her questions he already knew the answer to and taunted her with reminders of her impending fate.  Major Ti was her one friendly face in the interrogation room, and even then, that wasn't saying much.  He never stood up to the interrogator, though Lara couldn't bring herself to blame him; he probably had a family under the threat of execution if he didn't show absolute obedience to the Celestial Throne (and thus, the Maskirovka).  The one time he had seemed ready to intervene, the interrogator had silenced him with a look.

       A single look.


	12. Part 10

Task Force Aleph HQ (Outside Capella City), Capella 

**Capella Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**September 10, 3219**

"And here," said Edward Davion, "we have a problem."

       "Once again, Eddie, you have a gift for understatement."  Bill Shenke frowned and glared at the intelligence reports as if he could frighten away the information they contained.  "Well, I'm stumped.  It's your call."

       The Third Sian Regulars had turned Capella City into a fortress.  Two 'Mech battalions and all of the RCT's armored and infantry elements had fortified practically every building, and aerospace fighters patrolled the skies.  A direct assault would be too costly to consider, but leaving the Regulars in the task force's rear would make their supply lines very vulnerable.

       "All right, we level the city," Edward said after great consideration.  "Bring up every artillery battery we have, and pound them nonstop, till they have to ferry down more ammunition from orbit."  He bit his lip.  "God, that city was evacuated, right?"

       "As far as we know.  The _Moon Blade_ reported a large number of vehicles leaving the city, heading north for the capital.  Civilian casualties should be minimal."  Shenke shook his head.  "You know, though, I wouldn't put it past Sinclair to leave civvies in the line of fire, if it makes us look bad.  So far, she's fought a fairly honorable battle."

       "Let's hope she keeps it up," Edward said.  "This will get real bloody real quick if she wants it to."

       Shenke nodded, only half-listening; he was busy calling up the necessary commanders to get the task force's artillery units mobilized.  Aleph's artillery had seen little use during the campaign, but that would probably change as Sinclair became more and more desperate to hold Capella.

       "Okay," said Shenke, "I've got the artillery coming up from the drop zone.  ETA is an hour from now, and General Backus assures me that they'll be firing a half hour after that.  Any specifics on the ammunition type, or should I instruct him to use his judgment?"

       "No mines," Edward said.  "Obviously, no nuclear or chemical agents or anything like that; we have to go into this place after we get done bombing it.  Other than that . . ."

       "I'll let him know.  Hang on a sec, please."  Shenke went back to talking into his headset.

       Edward waited for him to finish, considering his plan for attacking the city.  For most of the battle for Capella, the First Crucis, Samurai Guard, and Davion Heavy Guards had born the brunt of the fighting.  Some units, he knew, had gone for as much as seventy hours without sleep.  They would have to be rotated out, and replaced with the Fourth Avalon Hussars, the Odell Regulars, and the Second Robinson Rangers—all capable units, but none with the experience of the regiments they were replacing.  There would be casualties, but it was unavoidable.

       "Okay," said Shenke, "it's in the works."  He lit a cigarette.  "Capella City is living on borrowed time."  He shook his head, letting out a puff of smoke.  "Dammit, I hate to think of all the people we're gonna kill today."

       "Let me worry about that, Bill," Edward said.  "You just do your job—and you do it well, have I mentioned that lately?"

       "No, you haven't, so thanks," said Shenke with a wry smile.  "It's okay, we still love you."  He stood there, quietly smoking the cigarette, for a short time.  "The way I see it," he said finally, "Sinclair is either just evacuating the city to do the humanitarian thing, getting her people out of the war."  He stubbed out the cigarette.  "Unfortunately, I don't think she's the type.  So my guess is she's going to use them against us, somehow."

       "How do you suggest we deal with that, Bill?" Edward asked.  Shenke shrugged.

       "Well, we obviously have several options.  One, we just ignore civilian casualties and hit Sinclair as hard as we can.  Two, we ignore Sinclair, and just blast the spaceport and leave her marooned here.  Three, we can fight to minimize civilian casualties, which will be slow, slow, slow, and will kill a lot of our people."  Giving in to the little monkey on his back, Shenke lit another cigarette.  "Really is a horrible habit, you know.  Personally, Edward, I'm leaning toward blowing the spaceport, and seizing any ships in the system.  Our WarShips can handle that.  Unfortunately, you're going to need the WarShips to attack Sian, which will free up Sinclair on Capella . . .  So what I think we ought to do is quarantine Sinclair to a certain area—say, the capital—and keep her there.  If we control the skies, she can't attack us without taking major hits from our aerofighters along the way, and she definitely won't be able to leave the city.  Sinclair won't be able to affect the remainder of the campaign in any way, and we don't end up killing a lot of noncombatants."

       "All right, that sounds good," Edward said.  "But for a situation like you've described to occur, two things must happen.  First off, we're right that Sinclair _is_ the kind of sick maniac that we've been talking about.  Second, that we are able to hurt Sinclair badly enough to make her retreat into a fortified area.  For that, we need to hit her."

       "I've been thinking about our order of battle, Eddie," Shenke said.  "We really need to conserve the First Crucis, considering their upcoming mission, so I'd like to hold them back as a strategic reserve, and the Samurai Guard and the Davion Heavies have been fighting almost the entire time we've been on Capella."  Edward was slightly amused that Shenke's words echoed the thoughts he had only a few minutes earlier.  "I think they all need a long break, longer than they'll get during this attack.  We ought to consider bringing the Fifth Lyran down from orbit."

       "Okay," Edward said.  "I'll get in touch with General Dobelman.  They'll come down after we deal with Capella City, and then, hell, then they'll be our spearhead, with the Second Robinson, I think."  The Lyrans got along with the troops from the Draconis March Federation better than anyone; the Kuritans, after all, had engaged them in a multi-ship riot earlier in the campaign, and the AFFS personnel were a bit resentful in spite of themselves.

       "Sound good, sir," Shenke agreed.  "Now if you'll excuse me, I think Leftenant Jorgenson wants me to smoke the rest of this outside."  He smiled sweetly at Jorgenson, whose nose was wrinkling in disgust at the smell of the cigarette smoke, and walked out.

       Edward laughed to himself, and picked up the com to call for a connection to General Dobelman.

Prince's Palace, Tikonov Tikonov Principality 

**September 13, 3219**

Zander set aside the latest reports from EarthWerks as the door to his office opened and an unannounced guest strode inside.  His right hand rested on the autopistol in his desk drawer, the left fiddling with some pens on his desk.  He allowed himself to relax a little when he saw that it was just Rain Jeffers . . . but he kept his hand on the gun.

       "Colonel," he said cheerfully.  "What is it I can do for you today?"

       "What the hell was so bloody important?" Jeffers demanded.  Zander frowned and waved his hand.

       "Close the door and take a seat," he said.  She shut the door, but stayed standing, and repeated her question.

       "If you must know," Zander said, "I'm planning a celebration for the Lonesome Vanguards, to hail your loyalty to the Tikonov Principality.  Of course I needed you present."

       She frowned.  Zander knew she suspected something, but she wouldn't get anymore from him.

       "I see," she said.  "When exactly _is_ this thing planned?"

       "October 1," said Zander.  "I'll have my people connect with you an get your feedback for it.  It wouldn't do to have the guest of honor find the celebration lacking.  Yes, yes, you can have whatever you want, just get a list to my office by the fifteenth."  He waved his hand dismissively.  "Now go, coordinate with your people.  Take some time off—you've earned it."

       When she left, he sighed to himself, hoping that she'd bought his performance.  He hadn't expected her to just barge into his office like that, and as such his words hadn't been properly planned out.  Fortunately, Rain Jeffers lacked the analytical mind that he had, and couldn't possibly have imagined what he had planned for her.  Even if she had, she wouldn't have believed it.

Lonesome Vanguards Barracks, Tikonov 

**Tikonov Principality**

"How'd it go?" Yountz asked when Jeffers returned to their hodgepodge command center.  Jeffers frowned.

       "It was very . . . confusing.  Zander was practically dripping with joy."  She shook her head.  "I think maybe he was on drugs or something.  Really, I've never seen him like that."

       "What'd he say?" Scoot interjected impatiently.  "Why the hell did we have to haul ass to get back here?"

       "There's going to be a celebration in our honor," Jeffers said.  She explained the conversation with the Prince.

       "Hmm," said Scoot.  "Maybe he was drunk."

       "Or maybe he wants something from us," Yountz said.  "Personally, I think that's more likely.  He's really a quite good politician, you know—have either of you seen one of his speeches?  Marvelous."

       "Can it, Hank," Jeffers said.  "Remember, first and foremost, that Prince Zander is a royal son of a bitch."

       "Then why are we working for him?" Scoot asked.

       "Because . . . because we're mercs, Scoot.  That's what we do—we fight for money."  She shrugged.  "Least, that's what I hear."

       "Hey, guys, I just had a thought," Scoot announced.

       "Wonderful."

       Yountz rolled his eyes.  "Do enlighten us."

       Scoot smiled.  "Zander is offering us any_thing_ we want, right?  _Any_thing!  For a _party_!  And we're having second thoughts about it?  What's wrong with you guys?!"

       Jeffers raised an eyebrow.

       "You know," said Yountz, "our misguided friend _does_ have a point . . ."

       "Yeah I do!"

       "And Zander _did_ say we get _anything_ . . ."

       "Yeah he did!"

       "We'll make him regret those words," Jeffers said.  Yountz chuckled to himself; Scoot let out a whoop of triumph and skipped joyfully out of the room.

       "Be back with a list!" he called.

       "A list of what?" Jeffers and Yountz asked each other.


	13. Part 11

**Capella City, Capella**

**Capella Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**September 15, 3219**

General Wu Lin ignored the volleys of artillery shells that had pounded Capella City for the last day and a half as he walked through the hallways of his command post.  The CP for the Third Sian Regulars had been established inside an old ammunition dump the local militia had abandoned twenty years earlier.  His advance teams had discovered the bunker in good condition, and had easily converted it to serve as the headquarters for the unit's stay in Capella City.

       Wu Lin was unhappy about his orders.  General Sinclair had sent him his mission profile shortly before retreating to the capital.  He was to hold Capella City at all costs—and that included the complete destruction of the city and his Regulars.

       After working with Sinclair, Wu had come to respect her.  However, the entire Capella Campaign had lowered that respect considerably.  He had seen Miriam Sinclair commit horrible acts, including the murder of 117 Capellan citizens that had been trying to escape a war zone.  As far as he knew, the SLDF hadn't discovered the bodies—yet—but the Capellan propaganda machine on Sian was gearing up to blame Edward Davion for the massacre.

       Too bad it had been Wu's troops that'd had to actually do the dirty work.

       The First Confederation Heavy Cavalry, though by all accounts a more capable unit than the Third Sian Regular (at least it was larger, by any rate), had yet to see combat on Capella.  Sinclair had told him a number of times that she was holding back to attempt an ensnaring movement to cut off the Star League forces while they were engaged with the Third Sian, but Wu Lin saw several gaping holes in that argument.  First off, she had foregone a number of opportunities to do just that.  Secondly, now that she had allowed the Third Sian to take almost forty-five percent losses, there was no hope of defeating the Star League, period.

       On the other hand, if Sinclair had attacked the enemy immediately after they landed on Capella as Wu Lin had suggested, the combined firepower of two RCTs and one merc battalion might have driven the invaders back into space.

       "Report," Wu demanded as he stepped into the command and control center.  C-cubed was the one room most responsible for the coordination of the Third Sian and the defense of Capella City.  Lately, with the artillery bombardment, there hadn't been much coordinating to do, but now, the volleys were getting lighter, and Wu's operations officer was predicting that the Star League would soon be making its move.

       "Sir, the enemy artillery has stopped firing.  Our spotters can see at least a regiment of BattleMechs forming up, along with tanks and infantry elements.  Most of the troops seen are from the Fifth Lyran Guard."

       "Coming from the south?"

       "All the troops we could see were to the west.  Most of our spotters to the south are MIA since the last bombing run by their aerofighters.  No troops could be seen on with the northern or the eastern sides of the city."

       Wu nodded.  It made perfect sense for the Star League to attack from only one or two sides; that way, they were less likely to mistake their own forces for enemies, and the Star League would be able to gradually push Wu's forces out of the city and into the open, where they could be picked off by artillery and airstrikes.

       The bastards.

       Not that Wu would have done anything different.

       "Do we have anything left in the air?" he asked.

       "Negative, sir.  The last two aerofighters were ordered to ground a few hours ago."

       "Who did that?" Wu asked.

       "I did, sir," said Colonel Jonathan Ming.  The executive officer of the Third Sian Regulars faced his commander.  "They had sustained great damage.  One was unarmed.  I believed it more important to preserve the lives of our pilots than to throw them away for no reason."

       Wu Lin nodded.  "Good," he said.  After a moment, he continued.  "Colonel, I want the unit to hold its fire until the Lyrans enter the city.  Once they are within our perimeter, we will attack with infantry and armored elements, and keep the BattleMechs back for later for later engagements."

       "Understood, sir."

       "We cannot hope to win this battle," said Wu quietly, preventing anyone but Ming from hearing, "but we _can_ bleed the Star League's forces, and give General Sinclair a chance at defeating them.  That is, unfortunately, _all_ we can do for the Confederation."

       "I understand, sir," Ming said with just a hint of excitement in his voice.  For all his outer cool, Ming was a fanatic on the inside.  "We will prevail."

       Wu laughed.  "You're wrong, Colonel," he said.  "We'll die."

       Leutnant Colonel Emeril Ippolito walked his _Marauder_ BattleMech into the shattered streets of Capella City.  The artillery bombardment had succeeded in leveling a significant area of the metropolis.  His headquarters company headed down a highway covered in the ruins of collapsed buildings, smoke from the fires set by incendiary shells clouding the sky.

       "Bug One, can you get any sort of visual with all that smoke and crap up there?" Ippolito inquired.  He craned his neck, looking into the sky, where Bug One and his wingman were flying reconnaissance for the Fifth Lyran Guard.

       "Sorry, sir.  There's just too much interference.  The best we've got is an infrared, and with all the fires burning down there, even that is sketchy.  So far, it looks like your force is clear, but . . ."

       "Understood, Bug One.  Thanks anyway."  Ippolito switched to his command frequency.  "Listen up, people, the air cover can't see anything, so you're going to have to really be looking out for ambushes."  He waited until he'd gotten acknowledgements from his officers, and then returned to his private frequency with his command staff.

       "All right, Captain Brinkman, first objective is the ammo dump, correct?"

       "Correct, sir.  Ammunition dump, it's an abandoned bunker that the Capellans aren't supposed to be using, but with the bombardment, who knows?  We're about two klicks west of it now.  We should be coming on resistance by now."

       "Roger—"

       "Command, this is Foxtrot One, we're engaging light infantry resistance, with possible armor support.  Will update on status."

       "Foxtrot One, can you handle the enemy forces with your present strength?" one of Ippolito's tactical action officers said.

       "Affirmative, Command, it shouldn't be much of a problem.  Hold a minute."

       "Sir," said Brinkman while Foxtrot One was otherwise occupied, "Foxtrot Company is south of us, about a kilometer.  They've got Bravo Company from the First Infantry with them; they should be able to handle it."

       "Roger.  Be ready to transfer some armor over to support them, if they need it."

       "Yes, sir."

       "Command," said Foxtrot One, "we've cleared the opposition.  We've got one 'Mech down—our pointman.  They had a Main Gauche that we didn't see till it was too late."

       "Casualties?"

       "Casey made it—barely.  We've got two KIAs in the infantry, a number of wounded.  Medevac is coming to take them out.  Approximately forty Capellan casualties, sir, including that Main Gauche."

       "Colonel," said Captain Roceuh, headquarters company commander, over the radio, "we've got company.  Capellan tanks and infantry, to the left and right."

       A Third Sian Regulars Morningstar rolled onto the highway just as Roceuh broadcast his warning.  The Capellan tank fired its turret-mounted autocannon at the _Penetrator_ next to Ippolito, blasting depleted uranium shells against its armored chest.

       Ippolito let his crosshairs hover over the Morningstar for a long time, painfully aware that this was the first time in his life he would fire at another human being.  Then, focusing on the steady drone of a target lock sounding in his ears, he depressed the firing stud and sent a gauss round streaking toward its target.

       The melon-sized round impacted on the Morningstar's turret, deforming the autocannon barrel just as the weapon fired.  The rounds exploded inside of the tank, igniting the remaining ammunition.  The ensuring explosion literally blew the Morningstar apart at the seams.

       "Good shot, Colonel," the MechWarrior in the _Penetrator_ said.

       "My pleasure, Gold Two."

       "Look out, sir, we've got a company of 'Mechs coming in from the east," Brinkman warned.  "I've sent an Inferno squad to intercept and try to make their lives a bit more difficult."

       "All right.  I want 'Mechs ahead to hit 'em as soon as they get past the Inferno crew."

       "Yes, sir."

       It didn't take long for the Capellans to come into sight.  They were one 'Mech light for a full company—Ippolito presumed the missing machine had been incapacitated by the Inferno rockets—and three of their number were still burning; one, a _Charger_, was covered from head to toe in sticky napalm.  Ippolito fired his PPC at it, hitting the _Charger _in the sides.  Finally succumbing to circumstances, the pilot ejected, flying away from her flaming 'Mech.

       A Capellan _Banshee_ hit Ippolito with its gauss rifle, knocking the colonel off-balance.  His 'Mech teetered on the verge of falling for a moment, and then slammed back down into the road, jarring Ippolito considerably.  He shook his head, trying to gain his bearings.

       Gold Two came to his commander's aid, throwing his _Penetrator_ between the _Marauder_ and the _Banshee_.  He let the _Banshee_ have all six of his pulse lasers, but missed with the large lasers, and received a particle beam that decapitated his 'Mech, blowing its body back into Ippolito's _Marauder_.

       Ippolito swore, trying to get around the _Penetrator_.  He fired both gauss rifles at the _Banshee_, hitting it with only one.  The slug destroyed the 'Mech's left elbow, locking its forearm in place, but the _Banshee _brought about its right arm and fired its PPC.  The azure bolt caught the _Marauder_ in its knee, sending a river of molten armor down over the 'Mech's shin.  The heat in the 'Mech's cockpit suddenly increased by five degrees, and Ippolito had to blink sweat out of his eyes.

       "Look out behind you, Colonel," Brinkman said.

       The attacking _Goliath_ hit Ippolito squarely in the back with its PPC, blasting the _Marauder_ forward.  The back of Ippolito's chair began to grow quite hot, and the computer warned him that his fusion reactor was overheating.

       Suddenly, with no warning, it started blaring the alert of an impending explosion.  Without a second thought, Ippolito grabbed the eject lever and pulled it back.  He rode the ejection seat into the air, passing out somewhere on the way up.


	14. Part 12

Tikonov City, Tikonov Tikonov Principality October 1, 3219 

"Throughout history," said Prince Zander from his position at the head of the People's Forum on Tikonov, "mercenaries have been a vital part of human warfare.  Men and women who fight for money have been instrumental in the defense of nations since the beginning of history on Terra.  In more recent history, mercenaries have been even more vital—the Kell Hounds saved Melissa Steiner-Davion from the Draconis Combine, at great cost to themselves, and without the help of Wolf's Dragoons, the Inner Sphere surely would have fallen to the Clans.  Though they have long been reviled as loyal to only money, the truth is, most mercenaries have loyalties just as strong as regular military forces.

       "We are gathered here today to honor mercenaries of that esteemed caliber.  Colonel Rain Jeffers and many of her officers were present on Tikonov during the opening days of the war.  Despite the treachery of Charlemagne Kerensky-Liao, who left the First Vanguards Company to die in a mere diversion, Jeffers stayed with the Principality.  It was her hard work that led to the reforming of the First Vanguards and the Lonesome Devils into the unit we know today, the Lonesome Vanguards.  It was the efforts of the Lonesome Vanguards that liberated Liao and Kurragin from the iron grasp of the Capellan Confederation.  Today, we will bestow upon Jeffers and her unit the highest commendation the Tikonov Principality has to offer—the Star of Tikonov."

       The audience of over a thousand invited guests—nobles, military officers, civilian leaders, and (of course) the corporate executives of Earthwerks and MegaMech—erupted in applause.  Zander waited for the noise to die down, reveling in his success.  Though he enjoyed great popularity with the Principality's citizenry, it wasn't often that he encountered such vocal sentiment.

       "Please, please," the Prince said finally, "to wait any longer to award this honor would be criminal.  Colonel Rain Jeffers," he said, glancing at where Jeffers was seated with the Vanguard officers, "please step forward, to receive this honor."

       She looked quite surprised as she approached the podium.  Despite himself, Zander smiled with anticipation as he imagined what she would be thinking in a few moments.  Quickly regaining his composure, he turned to an orderly to take the shining Star of Tikonov into his hands.

       "It gives me great pride," he said, "to award the first Star of Tikonov to Colonel Rain Jeffers—my fiancé."

**FSS _Glorious_, Tarazed System**

**Clan Nova Cat Territory**

**October 2, 3219**

Tyrone Utterman, captain of the _Glorious_, rotated his acceleration chair to face Admiral Ver Burg.  "Sir," he said, "we've got four Nova Cat WarShips on the scopes.  The sensors identify them as the _Future Triumph_, _Anna Rosse_, _Perilous Vision_, and the _Blade_.  All part of the Transcendent Naval Star.  A very good unit."

       "Only four?" Ver Burg muttered to himself.  He was a bit disappointed—_Glorious_ herself could take on those four WarShips alone.  With her sisterships, it would be a slaughter.

       "Transmit orders to the captains of the _Victory_ and the _Anderson_," Ver Burg said.  "Remind them that our goal is to cripple and capture, not to destroy.  _Victory_ will take the _Future Triumph_, and _Anderson Davion_ can have the _Anna Rosse_.  We'll take the other two."

       "Aye, aye, sir."

       Ver Burg started to give a command to the helmsman, but bit his lip.  As much as he would love to control _Glorious_ during the upcoming battle, he was technically just a guest aboard her.  He nodded to Captain Utterman.

       "You have the con, skipper."

       Utterman returned the nod thankfully, and swiveled back to get a full view of the holographic tactical plot.  "Helm," he said, "come left three degrees, sound alert for all personnel to acceleration chairs."

       "Left three degrees aye, sir; acceleration alert aye."  The ship was filled with the triple bleat of the acceleration alert, informing the crew that anyone caught out of an acceleration chair in a few minutes would be visiting the infirmary for a very long time.

       "Sir, all stations report secured for acceleration," the communications officer said.

       "Thank you, Comm.  Helm, increase acceleration to three gravities.  Sensors, I want a weapons solution as soon as they're in range."  He glanced at the chronometer.  "Deck Officer, I want the Mantises launched at 22:15."

       "Aye, sir.  Commander Reese reports ready for action."

       There was a brief moment of silence as the WarShips hurtled toward each other across the system.  The Nova Cats were eager to oblige the task force, splitting their forces to engage each FedSuns WarShip individually.  Flying in their wake was a pair of Clan Overlord-Cs, ships that would be mere afterthoughts in the upcoming battle of titans.

       With a heavy _chunk_, the three Mantis DropShips attached to _Glorious_'s back released their locks.  They quickly accelerated away, falling into a preplanned defensive position around the _Glorious_.

       "Firing solution locked in and ready," announced Weapons.  "Range in two seconds."

       "You may fire when ready," Utterman said.

       A scant heartbeat later, the four naval-grade gauss cannons in _Glorious_'s prow fired.  The heavy slugs traveled across the space between _Glorious _and the Cat WarShip _Blade_ in the blink of an eye, impacting just forward of the drive assembly.  The _Blade_ was quick in responding, lancing out with its heavy lasers.  The beams hit _Glorious_ in the nose, tracing a black line of discolored armor twenty meters along its hull.

       "Damage report?" Utterman asked.

       "Damage is minimal, sir.  Minor reduction of efficiency of the forward armor.  No serious damage to the ship, and no reported casualties."

       "Amazing," Ver Burg said.  Utterman nodded.

       "Yes, sir.  And now they're going to find out just _how_ amazing.  Weapons, hit 'em with everything you have."

       "Aye, sir."

       The forward mounted missile launchers began spitting Killer Whales into space, and all twelve naval autocannons began firing.  A second later, the WarShip's lasers joined the onslaught of fire heading toward _Blade_'s aft section.

       "Captain Utterman, _Blade_ is dead in space.  They're running on power reserves, and their weapons are offline."

       Just then, the _Perilous Vision_ fired a broadside of autocannons and missiles, pounding _Glorious_'s side.  Ver Burg felt the ship shudder from the impact, but Utterman didn't let it faze him, continuing to snap out orders to his crew.

       The _Perilous Vision_ soared past the _Glorious_'s after section, firing back at it.  The Mantises were on it immediately, falling into a loose orbit around the WarShip and firing their weapons into its rear.  Ver Burg was fascinated as the combat DropShips picked the Cat WarShip to pieces, leaving its engines nearly severed from the main body.

       "Sir," said Comm, "we're receiving a transmission from the _Perilous Vision_.  They've surrendered unconditionally."  He paused a moment, listening to the voices in his earbug.  "_Anderson_ signals that the _Anna Rosse_ has surrendered.  The _Future Triumph_ has yet to surrender, but the ship is dead in space, and the _Victory_ has her under its guns."

       "Very good, people," Utterman said.  "Admiral Ver Burg, the enemy is neutralized."

       Ver Burg glanced at the chronometer.  The entire engagement had lasted eight minutes.  "Captain, you and your crew performed superbly.  Once the _Future Triumph_ has seen reason, you may secure from battle stations."

       "Thank you, sir."

       Ver Burg smiled.  "You're welcome, Captain Utterman."

Star League Capitol, Tukayyid 

**ComStar Administration Zone**

**Rasalhague Dominion**

**October 4, 3219**

Donavan Steiner, now acting in his capacity as First Lord of the Star League, looked around the Council chambers.  This was a meeting of the Defense Committee, headed by Khan Kerensky of the Wolves, and thus included only four of the Star Lords—Elijah Kerensky, Coordinator Kurita, and First Prince Davion.  Khan LeFabre of the Star Adders would have been there, but as his Clan had declared neutrality in the war (and had voted against the freedom of the Tikonov Principality), he had declined to attend, citing a conflicting interest.  Donavan regularly attended the meetings of the various committees, and, as Deputy Commander-in-Chief, Precentor Martial Nicholas Kurita-Davion was allowed to sit in on the Defense Committee.

        "This meeting of the Defense Committee will now come to order," said Khan Elijah.  The Wolf Clan MechWarrior was a tall, proud man.  Though his long black hair and thick goatee had long since gone salt-and-pepper, he still carried himself with a youth that beguiled his age.  At sixty, he was practically ancient by Clan standards, even in the relaxed society that had developed after the Clan Wars.  He was one of the most powerful khans of the Wolf Clan since Ulric Kerensky had led the invasion of the Inner Sphere, and also held the position of ilKhan of the Clans.

       "Today," Elijah continued, "we will hear the presentation of the Precentor Martial, who will inform us on the status of the war.  This will be a general meeting; any issues proposed today will be voted on tomorrow at the follow-up.  If there are no questions, I invite the Precentor Martial to begin."

       Nicholas waited a moment to allow any questions to be aired, and then stepped forward when the room was silent.

       "Thank you, Khan, gathered Lords."  He activated the holoprojector behind him, displaying a map of the Capellan Confederation.  A dozen worlds were highlighted in gold, and one of them, Capella, blinked red.  "This is a map of Task Force Aleph's progress.  Between Aleph and the TPAF, the Star League now controls a dozen Capellan worlds, including Liao and, most recently, Kurragin.  Also, six worlds have revolted against the Confederation.  On Gan Singh, there was no fighting, just a peaceful transition to local control.  Gan Singh has since applied for annexation by the Tikonov Principality.  However," he said, "on Second Try, Yunnah, Palos, St. Andre, and, believe it or not, Masterson, fighting has broken out between Capellan garrison forces and local militias.

       "Task Force Aleph is currently embattled on Capella, fighting against the Third Sian Regulars in Capella City.  General Davion has reported that fighting is beginning to die down, and anticipates that the Third Sian will be defeated in no longer than ten days.  However, he warns that the First Confederation Heavy Cavalry, under command of General Miriam Sinclair, has been virtually untouched by the fighting, and that fighting on Capella will continue for several more months, at least."

       "General Davion still expects to take Sian by January 3220, _quiaff_?" Kerensky asked.

       Nicholas nodded.  "In a manner of speaking.  The details are still being hammered out, but Davion intends to assault Sian with a regimental combat team, secure Chancellor Liao, and force him to surrender the planet."

       "A _single_ RCT?" Kerensky balked.  Shane Davion shifted uncomfortably.

       It was Ichiro Kurita who came to Edward Davion's defense.

       "If I may speak, Khan Kerensky, I believe that General Davion's plan has a very good chance of success," he said.  "I assume he intends to drop almost directly on the Celestial Palace.  In such proximity, the only military unit that will be able to stand against him is Chong-lo's Celestial Guard Regiment.  The CGR is hardly a crack unit—they train more for parades than anything else—and while their equipment is new, ah, intelligence reports indicate that they have low reserves of ammunition, and that most of their 'Mechs and vehicles are stored in a single building.  If that building could be destroyed by an airstrike, General Davion's attack would be unchallenged.  No one will be able to react in time to stop him from capturing Liao and, ah, convincing him to surrender."

       "That is, I believe, General Davion's plan," Nicholas said.

       "And they'll never expect it," the First Prince said.  "It will not be the first time that 'impossible' matters have been accomplished in the Inner Sphere."

       Donavan nodded.  _Like Tharkad,_ he thought.

       "Aff," said Kerensky.  "Please, Precentor Martial, if you could continue."

       "Of course, Khan."  Nicholas hit a button on his remote control.  The map displayed now was one of the Free Worlds Republic.  A dagger of golden worlds pointed directly at its heart, a planet entitled "Marik."

       "Under command of the Gunji-no-Kanrei, Task Force Beta is making great progress in the Free Worlds Republic.  They've been able to take more worlds because the Kanrei isn't operating under the same sort of deadline that General Davion is.  He expects that Marik will be taken by January 31."  Nicholas walked around the map.  "However, Captain-General Corrigan has been contacting the Kanrei's command, attempting to open negotiations for a lasting peace.  It is my formal suggestion, as Deputy Commander-in-Chief _and_ in my capacity as Precentor Martial of ComStar, that negotiations be opened with House Corrigan.  The Captain-General has already offered to return Tharkad and to pay the full costs of damages incurred during the battle for that world, and to withdraw his troops from any other nation's worlds."

       "And what does he ask in return, Precentor Martial?" Kerensky asked.

       "He hasn't made any requests of yet—after all, negotiations haven't formally begun.  He has hinted that he would expect Free Worlds sovereignty to be respected, and readmission of the Republic into the Star League."

       "Corrigan challenges us, sides with a war criminal, and then begs for forgiveness when his armies are defeated!" scoffed Kerensky.  "He expects this from us, _quineg_?"

       "Actually, Khan, I think he does," Nicholas said.

       "Why?" Shane asked.

       "Because he knows that forgiving and forgetting will help the whole Star League to get over this war.  Khan Kerensky, how many warriors has your Clan lost against the Jade Falcons?  And how many warriors have been lost by the Ghost Bears?   And First Prince, how many soldiers have died for the Federated Suns?  How many have died for the Dragon?"  He grimaced.  "Six hundred and eight.  That is the number of confirmed deaths among the Com Guards.  There are three times that many wounded.  Those numbers pale in comparison to the loses your nations have endured, and the losses endured by the Capellans, the Free Worlders, the Nova Cats, and even the Jade Falcons.  Accepting the FWR back into the Star League will show that we're willing to put the killing behind us, and move forward toward a brighter future."  He shrugged.  "Otherwise, we could end up kicking off the Fifth Succession War."

       The room was silent for a moment.

       "Thank you, Precentor Martial," Kerensky said.  "I believe that, given the presentation today, we have a very important vote coming, one that should be made in full Council, not just in committee.  First Lord, that is your arena, not mine.  As far as I am concerned, the Defense Committee is adjourned." 


	15. Part 13

Capella City, Capella 

**Capella Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**October 9, 3219**

"Sir, Fourth Battalion is breaking!  They can't hold the line any longer, sir!  Sir, you have to recall them!  You _have_ to—"

       General Wu Lin had his service pistol in his hand, raising it to line up with the chest of the frantic lieutenant.  The lieutenant's eyes widened for a moment, and then went blank as Wu emptied his clip into the man.

       The body fell to the floor, and blood spattered on Wu Lin's face.  The enraged general turned to his shocked staff, looking at each and every one of them in turn.

       "Who the fuck else wants to recall the battalion?" he asked, slowly, calmly.  They knew better than to answer.

       Slowly, Wu Lin reloaded the pistol.  The last few weeks had not been kind to the Third Sian Regulars.  He was now down to "Fourth Battalion," the surviving 'Mechs of First, Second, and Third Battalions reconstituted into an overstrength company, a battalion in name only.  It was the last line of defense preventing the Star League from taking the city, and now it was gone.

       Wu looked back at the body of the lieutenant, sickened at what he had done.  The man was right, after all.  Fourth Battalion was as good as dead . . . and now Wu Lin would join them.

       "Have the techs prep my 'Mech," he said.

       Allen Kell advanced slowly behind A Company.  McRae had forbidden him from getting near the front—the remnants of the Third Sian were fighting harder than ever before, and she wasn't about to lose the general she was supposed to be protecting.  It was, he supposed, one of the few circumstances in modern warfare where a sergeant had given a leftenant general an order—and he had followed it.

       "General Kell," said Major Pflueger, "they're breaking.  There can't be more than five 'Mechs left."

       "Good job, Major, keep up the good work."  Kell shook his head.  Five BattleMechs?  Out of a regiment of 144?  Those were phenomenally huge losses.  The Third Sian Regulars had been _destroyed_.

       To their credit, they'd taken most of the Fifty Lyran Guard with them.  After the Fifth Lyran had been bogged down in the heavy urban warfare, Edward had sent the Second Robinson Rangers and the Odell Regulars to bail them out.  The ensuing firefight was not only confusing but also costly; it was estimated that around thirty-five percent of the losses taken by the SLDF forces were from friendly fire.  Things had gotten more straightforward after that, when the Fifth Lyran's remaining battalions had been withdrawn and the Odell Regulars had been assigned to the city's pacification.  Edward had kept the Second Robinson in DropShips, using them as a quick response team to drop on any trouble spots that arose.

       However, those units had been fighting for over two straight weeks, and Edward had wisely decided to give them a break.  The First Crucis Lancers were sent back into the fray, but by then the operation was basically just a mop up.

       "Kell!" hissed a voice in Allen's earpiece.  Kell frowned.

       "Who is this?  Speaker, identify yourself!"

       "This is General Wu Lin, commander of the Third Sian Regulars Regimental Combat Team," the voice said.  "I am in a _Yu Huang_, moving toward your position now.  I challenge you to meet me in single combat."

       "Single combat?  What are you talking about?" Kell asked.  "Listen, Wu, you need to surrender _now_ if you want your people to live.  Do you hear me?"

       "I hear you Kell," Wu said.  "Here're the facts—there're about a hundred of my people left.  They will fight to the death, if I order them to.  However, they are currently under orders to surrender if I am killed.  This is your choice, General Kell:  meet me in single combat, or kill the rest of my command."

       "Your men will honor the agreement?"

       "They will."

       Kell frowned.  "What are you expecting if you win?"

       "Safe passage out of the city for my men.  You'll let them get to General Sinclair's command unharmed."

       "Why should I even consider this?" Kell asked.  "We can destroy you right now.  Surrender now, and your men will live . . . and so will you."

       "No, Kell.  You're of the Clan tradition—you know their ways.  Now I ask you to grant me the death of a warrior.  Call it a Trial, if you wish."  There was a smile in Wu Lin's voice as he continued.  "I must admit to being foreign to the Clans' ways; I don't know the correct name for it."

       "Nor do I," said Kell.  He shook his head.  He was no more a Clanner than Wu Lin, but he understood where the Capellan was coming from.

       He thought.

       "General," said McRae, "don't do it."

       "Sergeant—"

       "Sir, it's bullshit!  It's a trick!"

       "Sorry, Allison.  For him, this is his only way of redemption.  I have to oblige him.  Honor demands it."

       "Honor isn't worth much if you're dead," McRae said.

       "Yeah, well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Sarge," Kell said with a laugh.  He ushered her away.  "Pull the company back.  Don't interfere till this is over, understand?"

       "Yes, sir."

       "Wu?"

       "Yes, Kell?" came the response.

       "I'm ready.  Let's do this."  Kell crossed the _Templar_'s arms in front of his cockpit, the clear sign of a challenge.

       Wu Lin was waiting for him.  The _Yu Huang_ stepped out from behind a crumpled building, firing its PPC.  The shot missed by a dozen meters, and Kell spurred his _Templar_ forward, firing a covering blaze of pulse lasers as he ducked behind a burned-out warehouse.

       The _Yu Huang_'s autocannon—a big model, with a bore that, by Kell's judgment, was 12cm if it was one—battered away his cover, but Kell had been expecting that, and was ready.  One gauss rifle hit the _Yu Huang_ in the thigh, blowing off a quarter ton of armor and tugging the 'Mech's leg to the right, throwing off Wu's aim.  Depleted uranium slugs impaled the ferrocrete streets as Kell fired his second gauss rifle.  The shot missed, and he was moving again, running down a street with relatively intact buildings, giving him lots and lots of cover from the _Yu Huang_'s heavier firepower.

       Fortunately, what his _Templar_ lacked in guns it made up for with speed, and he easily outpaced the Capellan 'Mech, turning down a secondary street to throw Wu Lin off.

       Kell gave his heat sinks time to do their jobs, ambling carefully through Capella City.  He was guessing that Wu was somewhere to the west, left of his current heading, still trying to catch up.  Kell was fairly certain that he was the superior MechWarrior, but Wu's _Yu Huang_ had heavier armor and the capacity for more damage, as he had demonstrated with the autocannon and PPC.  Kell found himself wishing he had forgone his usually light armament in place of something with a little more punch.  The light gauss rifles he had were mean tools—against smaller 'Mechs or tanks.  This _Yu Huang_ would be able to weather a good number of hits from the railguns before going down.

       Kell didn't plan on finding out how many autocannon rounds his _Templar_ could endure.

       "Okay, Wu, what're you thinking?" he said to himself.  He had turned the radio off at the beginning of the engagement.  "Do you think you hit me, that that's why I'm running?  No, probably not, you probably figured out that running is my best option, that you'll kick my ass in a straight fight."  He smiled to himself.  "You'll be watching for some sneaky trick, some brilliant maneuver that will give me the edge I need.  You're a smart son of a bitch, aren't you?"

       He continued heading north.  Finally, after he'd put about a kilometer between himself and Wu, he turned around, and started an all-out run back the way he had come.

       _Let's see how you like this, Wu Lin,_ he thought, checking his HUD.  All weapons were green, heat was optimal . . .  _Time to rock and roll._

       He saw Wu at five hundred meters, advancing slowly down the cluttered avenue.

       Kell threw himself to the right, straight through a building that had been just a bit slow in getting out of his way.  Behind him, a particle beam crackled by, impacting several hundred meters back and digging a long furrow of melted ferrocrete in the ground.  Kell swore as half the skyscraper toppled down on him, but he kept his 'Mech's legs churning, and suddenly, he was out in the open air, running straight toward the _Yu Huang_.

       Wu Lin was obviously surprised.  _He must have expected me to head off down another alley,_ Kell thought, bringing the gauss rifles up to bear.  He kept the _Yu Huang_ in the center of his field of vision, waiting until the tiny dots in the center of his crosshairs pulsed gold—

       Kell fired just a moment before the _Templar _slammed head-on into the _Yu Huang_.  With the double-impact of the gauss slugs and the 85-ton 'Mech bearing down in it, the _Yu Huang_ toppled over backwards, taking Kell with it.  Kell suddenly found himself looking through a cracked windshield at the _Yu Huang_'s armored breastplate.

       "Jesus," he muttered to himself.  "_That_ was a hell of a thing."  Quickly working the controls, Kell vaulted to his feet, kicking away the _Yu Huang_'s particle projection cannon.  He jumped onto it, crushing the weapon's barrel and rendering it useless, and then levered his guns downward at Wu.  Reactivating his radio, he spoke.

       "Last chance, Wu Lin," he said.  "I beat you—I win."

       "Not that easy," Wu said, and Kell saw the _Yu Huang_'s other arm coming around, bringing the autocannon in line with his cockpit.  He kicked the _Yu Huang_ in the side, making its first shot go high, and unleashed everything he had into the dented armor.  The armor pealed aside under the withering fury of close-range large pulse lasers, and Kell kept firing, his hand slapping the emergency shutdown override.  Armor, myomer muscles, and the 'Mech's metal skeleton melted away, and the emerald laser darts found the _Yu Huang_'s fusion reactor.

       The explosion sent Kell's 'Mech hurtling back into a skyscraper.  Kell held up his hands against the brilliant flash of light, seeing his bones illuminated through the flesh.  The heat in his cockpit became unbearable—and then the 'Mech's computer informed him that the fusion reactor was seconds from exploding.

       Kell's hand found the ejection lever, and pulled it.


	16. Part 14

Myrtou, Capella 

**Capella Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**October 11, 3219**

Edward stepped calmly off the VTOL that had transported him and his command staff from the remnants of the Task Force Aleph CP to their new headquarters in the small rural town of Myrtou.  His long AFFS-issue duster jacket swirled in the wind from the VTOL's rotating blades and from the strong wind coming in from the northwest.

       Allen Kell greeted Edward with a salute.  He was wearing a similar jacket, identical to Edward's save for the rank pin.  His left arm was still in a sling; the doctors had said he could take it off in a few days, but it would be some time before they would allow him in a 'Mech again (which, considering that his _Templar_ was scattered across eight square blocks of Capella City, wasn't necessarily a bad thing).

       Edward returned the salute.  "Well, Allen," he said, "what have you and Bill got set up for us today?"

       "We set up the CP in a hotel across the street," he said, pointing.  As he did, it began to rain.  "Lovely weather we've been having lately," he added.  "Bill's got all his equipment set up in the conference room; it's actually not too far from what we had originally wanted.  And it's the best this town has."

       "Any sign of military activity?"

       "No.  After what happened to the Third Sian, she's working on fortifying her position outside the capital.  From what our recon flights can see, she's staying out of the city proper, but she's setting up some heavy barricades.  It'll be a tough nut to crack—and unlike General Wu, Sinclair has the full support of her aerofighter wings.  We lost a recon fighter yesterday."

       "Speaking of General Wu," Edward said, "how's the wrist doing?"

       "Um.  Well, it's fine.  Nothing painkillers can't fix."  Kell shook his head.  "To tell you the truth, losing the _Templar_ hurts more than the injury does.  I guess that was pretty stupid, wasn't it?"

       "On the contrary," Edward said.  "You saved over a hundred people.  Unconventionally, yes, but you still saved them."  He smiled.  "I, ah, nominated you for commendations, by the way.  Nothing special—just the Order of the Star of Cameron."

       "The _what_?" Kell asked.  "Hell, I ought to do stupid things more often."

       "Not likely," Edward said.  "McRae would probably kill you."

       "The truth," Kell said.  He fell in step with Edward as the general began walking toward the hotel.  "Shenke saved you a room he thought would be to your liking."

       "My liking?" Edward repeated, grimacing in anticipation.  They walked into the hotel's lobby, swapping salutes with a sentry from the Odell Regulars.  Edward followed Kell up a few flights of stairs.  "Why am I worried?"

       "Because you should be," said Bill Shenke from behind him.  "General Davion, it is the pleasure of General Kell and me to present to you the Myrtou Grand Plaza Hotel's Honeymoon Suite!"

       "Lovely," groaned Edward, "just lovely."

       "I like what you've done with the place," Edward said, looking around the command center.  "That said, let's get down to business, shall we?  Shenke?"

       "Sure thing, boss," Shenke said.  "Okay, people, the Fifth Lyran is out of it.  General Dobelman is back at the Capella City post getting them ready for lift back to space.  They'll be heading back to the Alliance by the end of the week, so if you've got any congratulations to give them—and I suggest that you do—you'd better get them faxed over soon.

       "The First Crucis Lancers will be used exclusively as a reserve force," Shenke continued.  "They're going to be pretty busy training for the Sian mission, but given your units' past performances, I'd guess they won't be needed often."  A line of faint smiles showed up on the faces of the assembled commanders—all except for Tai-sa Genimocho, who was grinning ear to ear.

       "The First Confederation Heavy Cav is heavily emplaced just south of the capital.  Sinclair has the coverage of her entire aerofighter wing, and she's running patrols out as far as twenty kilometers—mostly light 'Mechs supported by hovercraft and VTOLs.  This is going to be a hell of a fight, and we're projecting two to four months for the campaign."

       "So no quick battle like we got the Third Sian with?" Genimocho said.

       "No.  This is going to be a long, protracted campaign, and unfortunately, it's unavoidable if we want to secure this planet."

       "What happens when General Davion captures Chong-lo?" asked Colonel Peterson, the commander of the Odell Regulars, and also the most junior flag officer at the table.  "If we get him, Sinclair will surrender, right?  Wouldn't we be better off surrounding her and keeping her occupied with harassing tactics until we could take Sian?"

       "We've considered that possibility," Shenke said.  "It doesn't work for a couple of reasons.  Primarily, we're not sure if Sinclair would respect Chong-lo's orders to surrender.  However, we've also gotten some reports from ROM and Lyran Intelligence that indicate that Sinclair is considering building her own little empire here on Capella.  It's an ideal world for her, especially if she has the loyalty of her unit.  We've decided not to let that happen."

       "Understood," Peterson said.  The next to speak up was General Gloria Waite, commanding officer of the Second Robinson Rangers.

       "What's the plan of attack, Colonel?"

       "It's pretty simple, really.  For the first few days we'll be using elements of the Odell Regulars to probe the First Confed's defenses, check out what they've got.  After we've got a good assessment of their preliminary defenses, we'll pound them with aerofighters, VTOLs, and artillery.  Because of the anti-air defenses we've observed from orbit—she's got twenty Calliopes we can see, and twice that many AA laser mounts—we can't totally eliminate her aerofighters if she doesn't want to send them out to fight.  If she's smart, she won't.  As soon as we break her lines—which will probably take a few weeks—we send in the attack.  The Fourth Avalon and the Second Robinson will head the attack, with the Davion Heavy Guards and the Luthien Samurai Guards right behind them.  Every aerofighter we have will go in with them, and they'll make the skies quite dangerous for Capellans.  However, because we'll have so many aerofighters in the air, neutralizing the AA threat is going to be a top priority for the ground force.  Their other objectives are simple:  destroy the First Confederation Heavy Cavalry's ability to fight, and continue until Sinclair either dies or surrenders.  When we have the First Cav, we have Capella."  He glanced at Edward.  "Anything to add, sir?"

       "Yes, thank you.  And thanks for the briefing, Bill."  Edward stood up, looking around at his officers.  He felt a swelling sense of pride as they met his gaze evenly, hardened warriors who knew exactly the hardships they faced—and didn't flinch.

       "There is the possibility," Edward said, "that Sinclair will retreat into the capital, or that she'll use civilians as human shields.  If that occurs, we'll momentarily cease operations and reassess the situation.  Either way we go, though, innocents are going to die, so be ready for it.  It's not going to be pleasant."  He shrugged.  "But then, that's war, and that's why they pay us the big bucks.  You can speak to me in a moment if you have any questions.  Each of you will receive a more detailed briefing for your unit's role in the campaign.  Dismissed."

       Edward stood over a vidscreen map of the Celestial Palace complex.  He had highlighted the best areas for the drop, four bright patches of green.  The Celestial Guard Regiment's 'Mech support facilities were circled in red, and the palace itself colored blue.

       "All right," said Edward to Shenke, Kell, and several of his regiment commanders, "this is the Celestial Palace on Sian.  Obviously, the palace itself and the capture of Chancellor Liao is our primary objective.  We'll drop the 'Mechs right out of orbit, in these three drop zones."  He pointed, the drop zones in question serving as the points of a triangle around the palace.  "Colonel Guthrie," he said, nodding to the commander of the Lancers' First Infantry Regiment, "will land here one minute into the battle with his regiment and a battalion of armor.  His troops will immediately go for the palace and secure Chancellor Liao."  Edward shrugged.  "Hopefully, he'll surrender.  If he doesn't, I'll be on hand to convince him."

       "What kind of opposition are we facing, sir?" asked Colonel Clay, the CO of the First Armored.

       "I was just getting to that.  According to intelligence, the Celestial Guard Regiment isn't worth the stick it would take to beat them into submission.  Also, we've got good information that says they keep almost everything inside the garage unless it's a parade day—and believe me, we're not hitting on a parade day.  As such, a heavy airstrike will at best take out the entire CGR while it's still in the garage.  At worst, we'll get really unlucky and have to fight them, but they're better trained for parades than they are for real fighting.  Unless anyone is worried that they'll be able to outmarch us."  He smiled.  "Chong-lo is extremely paranoid about the military—rightly so, considering how he treated it in the early years of this century—and he won't let any units aside from the CGR to maintain a garrison in the capital.  We'll have at least an hour before anyone else can react, and by that time, it's over."

       "And if the Capellans do react in time?" Kell asked.  "Or today just happens to be the day that an RCT is on exercise and has time to react?'

       "Then I'll nail 'em from orbit with a WarShip," Edward said.  "Chong-lo started this war, but I will by God finish it.  If that means I have to bring a WarShip into play, I'll do it."  He looked around.  "All right.  We're going to have to train hard for this, especially to get our drops right.  Mostly, that's in the hands of the DropShip pilots, which is why we're going to have them dropping all sorts of things out of the sky for months.  We won't actually drop for a few weeks, at least, but when we do, I'll expect everyone to be ready, so have your people in the sims."

       "The bitch of it is," Shenke said with a cigarette in his mouth, "_no one_ has made a boarding action since the Word of Blake Jihad.  "I mean, sure we have the tactical manuals on boarding, but really, we've no one with any real experience in the matter."

       "You keep saying that," Kell said, "but really, no one alive has led a campaign like this, either, and ol' Eddie's doing all right.  Aren't you, Eddie?"

       "I really wish," said Edward, "that you guys hadn't set me up in the honeymoon suite."

       The room was decorated in the gaudy style that was popular with cheap hotels these days, with lots of pink and bright red trim.  Shenke still cracked up every time he saw the overly large heart-shaped headboard, usually receiving an annoyed glare from Edward.

       "Hey guys," Shenke whined, "can I come in?  It's cold out here."

       Edward glanced out to where Shenke was standing and smoking on the balcony.  "Then put out the cigarette!" he said.  "This place is bad enough without the stink of that thing in here."

       "Oh, Eddie, you're no fun."

       "Back to the important stuff, though," said Edward, "Kell, who's the best man we have in urban combat?"

       "Leftenant Colonel Jacoby.  He's the commander of the Fourth Infantry Battalion.  He was suggested to me by Colonel Fykerud."  Kell smiled.  "They did very nicely during those two days we were fighting over the river station back at Bloomberg."

       "Yeah, I remember that," Edward said.  "Okay, approximately how many marines on the _Celestial Glory_?"

       "Approximately fifty, plus the Maskirovka security forces, so maybe a hundred combatants.  Even giving them the advantage in the fight, a battalion should be more than enough to take control of the ship—especially if we sent powered armor in."

       "Powered armor is probably going to see limited use," Edward said.  "We should have them on hand to deal with Capellan powered armor, but unless Colonel Jacoby objects, I think that's all they'll be useful.  The corridors aboard that type of cruiser aren't all that large, and it'll be hell if they get someone stuck in there."

       "It would certainly make things difficult," Kell agreed.  "Who commands the boarding action?"

       "Not you," said Edward.  "Not with that arm.  Fykerud can have it; it's his job, after all.  Get Jacoby working on tactics and the like, and as soon as he's ready, he can start training his men."

       "Okay," said Kell.

       "And me?" asked Shenke, tossing his extinguished cigarette to the street below and into the path of a Davion Heavy Guards _Cougar_ and stepping inside.  "What do I get to do?"

       "Keep coordinating _this_ campaign," Edward said.  "If you think of anything else for the Sian mission, by all means, let me know.  However, you're doing a fantastic job here, and I want to you know that.  And you too, Allen, even though you're stupid."

       "Hey," said Kell with a shrug, "I do what I can."


	17. Part 15

Tikograd, Tikonov 

**Tikonov Principality**

**October 13, 3219**

Zander usually stayed out of the capital, trying instead to govern from his palace in Tikonov City.  Unfortunately, some occasions called for a trip to the Forum, the legislative branch of the Principality's government, and Zander kept a smaller house in Tikograd for staying over during particularly long sessions of the Forum.

       Today, that house was in use, though for a very different reason.

       "Zander," said Rain Jeffers, speaking to him for the first time since his announcement at the ceremony, "what are you doing?"

       Zander carefully noted the lack of profanity in a statement that had offered the opportunity for at least one obscenity.  _She's actually put off by this,_ Zander thought.  She was on the defensive, and she didn't like it very much.

       "Zander?"

       "Yes, Colonel?" he asked.  "I'm sorry, I must have surprised you with the announcement of our engagement.  I do apologize for that."

       " 'Surprise' me?  Yeah, I'll say you did!  What game are you playing, Zander?  How am I a pawn in your little scheme of things."

       "Actually, I think a marriage between us would be mutually beneficial."

       "Oh?  Convince me," she said.

       "Certainly."  He walked around the room, slowly.  They were in the house's den.  The entire house was sparsely decorated; Zander had only used it once, and hadn't bothered to bring anything into it other than the bare essentials.  "You're a national hero, and so am I."

       "Yeah?  What nationally heroic thing did you do, Zander?" Jeffers snarled.

       "I ended the reign of a traitor, of course," Zander said calmly.  "But as I was saying—unless you'd like to interrupt again."

       "No," she growled, "please continue."

       "Thank you.  We're national heroes, loved by the people of the Principality.  Also, I depend on your mercenaries for the protection of the state, and your mercenaries depend on me for a livelihood.  We are symbiotic creatures, you and I, intertwined with the destiny of the Tikonov Principality."

       "That's a wonderful speech, Zander," Jeffers said.  "Save it for the doles.  I'm not your stooge."

       "All right, if you're not convinced," Zander said, "let me lay it out more simply.  You have to marry me because you simply have no other choice."

       Jeffers, who had started for the door, froze in her tracks.  Something about the way Zander had said that last sentence terrified her, sending shivers down her spine.  Slowly, she turned around.

       "Is that a threat, Zander?"

       "It is nothing, save what you interpret it to be," Zander said.  "But that's life, isn't it.  Interpretation."  He walked back to his desk, motioning to the chair in front of it.  "Have a seat, my love.  Jeffers—or should I call you Rain?—I'll be frank.  We have to marry.  There is no other choice."  He shrugged.  "I'm willing to make it well worth your while.  The only requirement is that you produce an heir.  You may retain position as commander of the Lonesome Vanguards, though I suppose you ought to leave the actual combat command to someone else.  And the Vanguards will be expanded to a multi-regiment force, a whole RCT if you want."  He shrugged.  "We could even take the Vanguards into the regular military, if you wished."

       Jeffers just stood there for a long time.  Then, finally, she sighed.  "I have to do this, don't I?"

       "Neither of us have any choice," Zander said.

       "Actually, my _fiancé_, I think _one_ of us does," she said.  "And I suppose I should be happy that you didn't choose your other option."

       As she left, Zander was surprised at how thoroughly she had judged the situation.  Indeed, she was very fortunate he had chosen to marry her instead of exercising an alternate method.  After all, life was always a much better path than death.

Vanguard Station, Tikonov 

**Tikonov Principality**

"Boss?" Scoot said as he took the stool beside Jeffers at the Officers Club bar.  "You okay?"

       "Not really, Scoot," Jeffers said over her fourth beer.

       "So you're going to marry Zander then, aren't you?"  He seemed to already know the answer.

       "Yes, Scoot.  God, I'm sorry, I knew you were interested in me, I'm so, so, so very sorry."  She shook her head.  "Goddammit, I _knew_ we should have gotten out of the Principality earlier, but the money was just so damn good . . .  I'm so sorry, Scoot."

       "Hey, don't worry about me, boss," Scoot said.  "Just a kiddy crush, I'll get over it.  You know me—I lack the capacity for complex feelings."  That drew a laugh from her, and Scoot smiled.  "See, things aren't so bad."  He shook his head.  "Zander is a first-rate asshole, though.  You have to marry him?"

       "He . . .  Yes.  Scoot, he'll do something horrible if I don't.  And not just to me—he'll take the people I love, too—the whole damn regiment if he feels like it.  I can't let that happen, Scoot, and I can't stop him from doing it."

       "I know," Scoot said quietly.  "Boss, if it makes you feel any better, you're doing the right thing.  And you'll always have me as a friend.  Always."  He squeezed her shoulder, and she smiled.  "You okay, Rain?"

       "I will be.  You?"

       "I'm fine," he said.  "Like I said, no complex feelings."  He looked at the clock.  "Look, boss, I've got to talk to Yountz really quick and cancel our meeting tonight, but then I'll be back, and we'll get drunk together and think about how this whole nasty thing won't be so bad after all."

       Jeffers nodded solemnly, and Scoot hurried out before she saw through his pathetic excuse.  Really, he just needed some air.  Some time to think, to himself, by himself.  He looked at his watch.  Realistically, it would take him about five minutes to get in touch with Major Yountz and cancel any business they had planned for the night.  Which meant that, in Jeffers' current state, he had about ten minutes before he had to be back.

       _Ten minutes should be enough,_ thought Scoot Alder as he walked into the crisp night, tears streaming down his face.

Star League Capitol, Tukayyid 

**ComStar Administration Zone**

**Rasalhague Dominion**

**October 14, 3219**

"The Capellans betrayed our trust—the trust of each and every one of our nations, the trust of every man and woman in the Inner Sphere.  To readmit them to the Star League would be sacrilege!  It betrays the sacrifices of SLDF soldier struck dead in this war!"

       "Grand Duchess Sandoval," said Donavan Steiner, "please refrain from such outbursts.  Your enthusiasm is appreciated, but there must be order in this council.  You may continue if you wish."

       Leann Sandoval, Grand Duchess of the Draconis March Federation, blushed at her rebuke.  "I apologize, First Lord.  I believe very fervently in my words."  She looked around the room.  "I think I have spoken enough.  Let someone else air his opinions."

       "The chair recognizes First Prince Davion."

       "You have spoken eloquently, Grand Duchess, and let me commend you for that," said Shane Davion.  "However, I believe that such arguments oversimplify the situation.  The fact is, we need the Capellan Confederation and the Free Worlds Republic back in the Star League.  Forgiving and forgetting lets us move on to the healing process.  You will remember that my nation did the same when half of our Draconis March seceded from the Federation."

       Sandoval only nodded, but Davion had obviously won the match.

       "The chair recognizes Khan Kerensky," Donavan said.

       "Thank you, First Lord.  My Clan has suffered thousands of casualties in our war with the Jade Falcons, and the Ghost Bears have lost a similar number, _quiaff_?"  The Khan of Clan Ghost Bear nodded.  "Accepting the Falcons and the Nova Cats as friends will be difficult for our people."

       "The chair recognizes Coordinator Kurita."

       "First, let me say that I respect the losses of your people, and that I am indebted to you for the contributions you have made to this war effort," said Ichiro Kurita.  "House Kurita does not easily forget its friends, and never shall forget you.  My people have also lost a great deal in this war, though—two thousand dead in the Free Worlds Republic, and three times that many wounded.  Against Irece, we have lost hundreds.  We know the cost of war.  However, the cost will be greater if we do not welcome House Corrigan and House Liao back into the Star League.  To do otherwise will help the old hatreds to begin anew, and begin a new round of succession wars.  Is that what you want?"

       "The chair recognizes the Precentor Martial."

       "Thank you, First Lord."  Nicholas Kurita-Davion folded his hands in front of him.  "The Coordinator and the First Prince are correct," he said.  "David Corrigan has already expressed his willingness to surrender considerable gains—" he was, of course, referring to Tharkad "—in return for peace and readmission.  He thought he was acting in his people's best interests."  He shot a glance at Khan Elijah.  "No one likes living under an oppressor, after all."

       "Thank you, Precentor Martial."  Donavan leaned forward in his chair.  "I believe I know just as well as the rest of you how costly this war has been.  The Lyran Alliance has lost its capital, after all, and we have supplied nearly a half of the troops in SLDF Task Force Beta, as well as two of Aleph's RCTs.  I too favor readmission for the Republic and the Confederation.  I think, however, that this argument is best represented in the Tikonov Principality.  The people of those two-dozen worlds have suffered greatly at the hands of Chancellor Liao over the last ten months, but Prince Zander's message is one of forgiveness.  He is willing to forgive the Capellans' misdeeds, and I believe that is what our dead would want."

       Donavan looked at the various members of the Star League Council.  "Now that we've all spoken our peace, I think that it is time to vote on this matter.  All in favor of readmitting the Free Worlds Republic and the Capellan Confederation, once hostilities have ceased?"

       The motion passed unanimously.

**DropShip _Mercury's Mistake_, In Transit Dock With JumpShip _Genco Pura_, St. Ives**

**St. Ives Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

The man found his seat without assistance, strapping himself in for the upcoming jump.  He flinched a little when the straps tightened down over his right shoulder, the wound still tender despite months in a hospital and the heavy-duty painkillers flowing through his blood.  The man didn't let the pain stop him, savoring it, letting it fill him.

       He had some debts to repay on Sian. 


	18. Part 16

**Outer Capellan Defense Zone, Capella**

**Capella Commonality**

**Capellan Confederation**

**October 15, 3219**

"Standby to input target coordinates!"

       "Ready, sir!"

       "Input coordinates:  six-seven-zero, niner-zero-four!"

       "Mark!"

       "Target locked, sir.  Elevation set!

       "Prepare to fire, three, repeat, _zero-three_ shells."

       "Prepared to fire, sir!"

       "Make the weapon ready in all respects!"

       "The weapon is prepared, sir!"

       "FIRE!"

       The 210mm Long Tom bucked as it fired.  The anti-'Mech shell arced into the air, and landed directly on target some three thousand meters north of the fire team, much to the delight of the Swiftwind spotting team.

       "Right on target, Foxtrot Three," the spotter reported as he watched a Capellan _Raven_ go down beneath a storm of shrapnel.  "Keep 'em coming."

       Edward felt a little awkward to be in his _Atlas_ again.  The ground thundered with every step the 100-ton BattleMech took, and, moving at nearly thirty-five kilometers an hour, he felt very much a god of war as he inspected the task force's artillery batteries.

       For the last week, they had been mercilessly shelling the First Confederation Heavy Cavalry's defensive positions.  Aerofighters had been busy harassing the Capellans' air coverage, though they hadn't been able to draw any major attacks out from under the safety of their defensive umbrella.  So far, the campaign had been successful, albeit slower than even Shenke had predicted.

       "Are you finding your metal feet again, sir?" Shenke asked over the command radio circuit.

       Edward shrugged to himself.  "It's . . . interesting.  I haven't been in a 'Mech in a few months, at least."

       "Try four weeks, Eddie."

       "Still," Edward said.  "It takes a little getting used to.  I should really spend some more time in the sims before we get to Sian."

       "It'd be a horrible thing to have to ground you, sir," Shenke mused.  "But really, what officer would have the moral courage to do that?"

       "Oh, I could think of a couple," Edward said, thinking of most of his command staff—Shenke included.  "What's the report for the weather this afternoon?" he asked.

       "Rain.  We're going to have a lot of wet artillery crews in the southern sector."

       Edward frowned.  "How's that going to effect our air coverage?'

       "The fighters won't be able to see anything beneath about a thousand meters.  Radar will be mostly functional, though, so the ground defenses should be pretty much uninhibited."

       "Right.  What've we got running security?"

       "We've got a regiment of armor from the Fourth Avalon, and some of their 'Mechs.  We've got battalions from the Odell Regulars and the Davion Heavies standing by as a reserve, and of course, we've got the aerofighters and a group of VTOLs in the south."

       "I don't like it," Edward said.  "Move some more troops up toward the front.  And I want the rest of the Davion Heavy Guard standing by to move in.  If the Capellans attack right now, we're wide open to them."

       "I hear you, Eddie, but I . . . hell, you're right."

       "That we're wide open?"

       "No, that they're attacking.  In the southern sector, we've got at least a regiment of mixed forces coming in, with full air support."  There was a pause.  "Damn, they're going to take some losses from midair collisions if they dip below the clouds."

       "The more the better," Edward said, turning his 'Mech south and throttling it up to its maximum speed.  "What've we got there?"

       "Two batteries of artillery, plus Company K of the Hussars' First Infantry.  There's a platoon of tanks, too.  And one 'Mech, a _Longbow_."

       "Well, we're heading for it now.  Where're those VTOLs?"

       "They're headed there now.  Sir, are you sure—"

       "I'm sure, Bill," Edward said.  "But thanks for reminding me with that little 'sir' bit.  I'll be careful."

       "That's all I can ask," said Shenke in a tone that definitely suggested that there was quite a bit more he would like to ask.

       "You're damn straight," Edward said with a laugh, "I outrank you."

       Shenke was too busy to respond, probably coordinating the transfer of units to counter the assault.  Edward maneuvered his 'Mech around a looming tree—no point in getting violent too soon—and did a quick check of his lancemates.

       "Everyone ready?" he asked.

       "You just let me worry about that, sir," said Captain Henri Bouraht, Edward's most recently assigned bodyguard.  Before being stationed with the First Crucis Lancers, Bouraht had been with one of the FedSuns' elite Davion Commandos regiments, one of the AFFS's toughest special operations units.  While he wasn't as pushy as Allison McRae, he was probably even more protective—he was just more careful to not let it seem like he was more protective.

       _The essence of a good bodyguard,_ Edward thought.  _The adversary can't see that he's a bodyguard until it's too late._  He drove his 'Mech harder as he saw the contrails of long-range missiles flashing by in the distance.  "Let's pick it up, people."

       "I'd have to remind you," said Shenke, back again, "that you have the slowest 'Mech in your lance."

       "Yeah, yeah, there's always a critic," Edward grumbled.  "You must remember that my 'Mech kicks the most ass, too."

       "I'll let that one slide, sir," Bouraht said.  His heavily modified _Thanatos_—it and the large tattoo on his forearm being the only ties with his SPECOPS days—passed Edward's_ Atlas_ with an easy lope.

       They were close enough now that they could see the battle.  The Capellans had at least a battalion of 'Mechs, and at least that many tanks.  Mechanized infantry elements were running with the armor, making it difficult to tell the difference.  A BattleMech company from the Odell Regulars had arrived, and was holding the Capellans away from the five mobile Long Toms which dutifully continued firing, despite the pitched battle raging not more than a hundred meters from them.  Faced with more pressing issues, the Capellans seemed not to notice Edward's lance as it crested the final hill between them and the enemy.

       _We'll let them know we're here,_ thought Edward.  "People, you may fire when ready!" he said, centering his crosshairs on an APC.  The dots in the center of each crosshairs flashed red, and he depressed the trigger on his left control stick, sending twelve LRMs arcing toward their target.

       The missiles exploded against the vehicle's roof, collapsing it and pounding the personnel carrier into very tiny pieces.  To Edward's left, an _Arbalest_ unleashed the full fury of its missile racks on a _Nova Cat_.  The OmniMech, lightly armored to accommodate the heat sinks necessary to keep its heavy energy armament from overheating the fusion reactor too badly, crumpled beneath the withering storm, collapsing to the ground as secondary explosions wracked its body.

       "Well, I'd say they know we're here," Edward muttered to himself.  Bouraht answered, but Edward didn't hear him, because at that time a gauss slug punched right into the _Atlas_'s leg.

       Besides smashing off a lot of armor, the hit didn't do much damage, but it caught Edward off-guard, and he lost control.  The next thing he knew, he was looking at some very squished grass.  Edward levered back to a standing position, bringing his left arm—and the autocannon housed within—up to fire at the _Cyclops_ that loomed above him.  At such a short range, the heavy DU slugs were devastating, blasting through armor as if it wasn't even there.  The pilot of the _Cyclops_, through ineptitude or simply surprise at how soon his victim had recovered, did not react in time to save himself.  Fire burst from his 'Mech's ammunition stores as it fell to its back, definitely out of the fight.

       "What's your status, sir?"

       "Fine, thank you," Edward said.  "Now, dammit, let's get some Capellans."

       Bouraht imposed his _Thanatos_ between Edward and the action, obviously not caring if the general could tell he was being protected.  A lance of Capellans—probably friends of the _Cyclops_—had decided to attack the newcomers.  Led by a _Men Shen_, they charged up the hill, firing LRMs ahead of them.  Unfortunately for them, the rapid speed of their 'Mechs prevented them from getting any hard locks on Edward's lance, and the missiles, for the most part, exploded against the ground.  Bits of shrapnel dinged against the _Atlas_'s side, gouging out little nicks in the heavy armor but leaving it otherwise unharmed.

       "Time to play with the big guns," Edward said to himself.  He pointed his autocannon at an enemy _Anubis_, a 30-ton 'Mech that really had no business attacking a lance of assaults.  A prolonged burst from the autocannon dropped the _Anubis_, which was torn apart as the warheads in its missiles exploded.

       "General, go left, _now_."

       Edward did as he was told.  The _Ti Ts'Ang_'s SRMs missed by a close margin, and it soon had better things to worry about as Bouraht hit it in the back with a scattershot blast.  The LB-X autocannon, essentially a 'Mech's version of a shotgun, barked twice more, scraping away armor like a piece of industrial sandpaper—at least, a very _large_ piece of industrial sandpaper.

       The _Ti Ts'Ang_ whirled on its attacker, swinging the ax in its right hand.  The blade swished by the cockpit of the _Thanatos_, barely missing as Bouraht backpedaled to get out of its reach.  He fired his 'Mech's pulse lasers, impaling the _Ti Ts'Ang_'s torso with darts of energy.

       Edward brought his own 'Mech around, firing both large lasers at the _Ti Ts'Ang_'s exposed backside, burning through armor and melting the 'Mech's shoulder joint.  Halted in mid-swing, the 'Mech's arm nevertheless continued on its path, carried on by the inertia of the heavy ax.  With a horrible scream of metal, the twisting motion sheared off the arm at the joint, leaving the _Ti Ts'Ang_ horrible unbalanced.  Falling to its left, it was pelted by a shower of missiles, exploding as it hit the ground.

       "Bouraht, look out for those tanks behind you," Edward warned.  Two of the heavier tanks in operation with the CCAF, a Marksman and a Chi-Lu, fired at the _Thanatos_, one with a PPC and the other with an autocannon.  The autocannon missed, but the particle beam clipped the _Thanatos_' rear thigh, burning a long hole through the 'Mech's leg.

       Bouraht stumbled, but managed to keep upright, and Edward fired his last flight of LRMs at the Marksman.  The tank managed to get out of the way of all but a few, and those left large pockmarks of destroyed armor on the side of its turret.

       "Wolf Three," Bouraht said, "cut around those tanks and hit 'em from behind.  Four, cover us; I don't want any 'Mechs sneaking up on us right now."

       "Roger, sir, don't worry about it."  Wolf Three trotted past in a massive _Orion III_, chasing away a curious _Sha Yu_.

       Not wanting to be forgotten, the Marksman tank aimed its PPC at Bouraht and fired, hitting the _Thanatos_ squarely in the chest.  Armor boiled off in a cloud of vapor but amazingly, Bouraht managed to fire back, savaging the Marksman's side with a blizzard of pulse lasers.  Edward fired a large laser at the tank, burning a glowing canyon of scarred metal across its front, and the Marksmen's treads pulled it rapidly back and—momentarily—out of the fight.

       Which left the Chi-Lu.

       Autocannon shells exploded against Wolf Two's _Warhammer_.  The explosions pounded Wolf Two back, toppling the _Warhammer_, which smashed into the ground with a horrendous crunch.  Edward pivoted his torso, letting the Chi-Lu have some of its own medicine as he raked his autocannon's fire across its flank, breaking open one tread.  The Chi-Lu stopped moving, and turned its turret to face the new threat.

       LRMs enveloped the Chi-Lu, rocking it back and forth under a rapid succession of explosions.  The hull must have breached, because as soon as the LRMs had all exploded, the tank's ammunition began to cook off, setting off an even larger explosion that sent the Chi-Lu's turret hurtling skyward.

       "Wolf Two?  What's your status?" Bouraht asked.  There was no answer.

       Blue lightning slammed into the _Thanatos_' left arm, mangling the limb and leaving it useless.  Bouraht fired off his jump jets, throwing off the crew of the Marksman, and Edward finished it, punching through the tank's armor with the autocannon and setting off its fuel tank.  A geyser of petroleum-fueled flame enveloped the Marksman.

       "Wolf Two?" Edward asked.

       "He's alive," said Bouraht, now standing over the fallen _Warhammer_.  "Took a hit in the cockpit, though.  Medevac is on the way."

       "Good," Edward said.  He looked toward the main battle lines; the backup from the Davion Heavy Guard had arrived, and in the distance, he could see a formation of 'Mechs and tanks from the Odell Regulars.  "Seems our work here is done."

       "Found your 'Mech legs yet, sir?" Bouraht asked.

       "You know," said Edward, "I think I just may have."


End file.
